Pieces of Me
by FlyingWithoutWingsLove
Summary: My name is Danny Chandra and I am not normal.
1. Prologue: Shattered

**Pieces of Me **

**Prologue: Shattered **

I was normal once. I'm sure of it. Now, now I don't know. I'm something with out a name, something undefined that lurks in the shadows of your mind with the other unnamed things. We're lost, these things and me. Lost somewhere in between what we define as normal and reality, lost between humanity and the things that consist of nightmares. I always knew there was a line. I could_ feel_ it, just a faint sliver of one that divided the supernatural from the natural. I just never knew how easily it could be crossed. But it was always there, and now it taunts me, something forgotten only to be remembered at the worst time. I tried so desperately hard to cling to the life I once had, but perhaps that was my downfall. Regardless, I'm here now, something un-normal wondering how to get back, how to cross that line once more. Just once more. That's all I want. That's all I _need_. But will it ever happen? That I do not know. I'm left here, abandoned like the rest. We're shattered, left alone and forgotten on someone's shelf, waiting for someone to come along and put us back together. But will anyone ever find me? Am I worth saving? I'm not sure but I hope. Oh God, how I hope.


	2. Chapter One: You're What You Owe

**Pieces of Me**

Chapter One:

_You're What You Owe _

**For those, death was an ending, but for me it was the mere ****_beginning_**.

* * *

_I stand here in the light, bathed by its purity as it casts away all sins. Now it is there turn to become nothing more than fractions of time and space. Now it is there turn to melt, to become abridged to a meager puddle by my feet. Now it is there turn to die. _

_I stand here in the light yet it remains unknown. No one sees me. No one can except for the few, the ones like me. I am just a figment of their imagination, those blessed mortals, just something vial that should be forgotten but can never leave. _

_I stand here in the light, left to listen to world sigh as it turns relentlessly alone. _

_I stand here in the light waiting, waiting for something that will never come._

* * *

There is no sunset but the one that dusts the painted skies of the mid-summer Louisiana. The clouds, wrapped and limply bounded by a delicate shade of pink and illustrious shade of orange one wishes to simply lounge in, giggle amongst themselves as they gingerly pass one another in the never ending race to reach the test of time. The grass sways kindly towards the whispered goodnight from the Earth as each lid falls into place. The fading sliver of the sun casts its golden glow one last time across the land until it slowly slips away, engulfed by the hunger of the plum in the night. All things cease, stop upon the very same breath, the one that catches in all our throats as we all breath out the same string of words; how beautiful.

And indeed it was.

It was over now, the sun has left to be replaced by the pale beauty of the moon but the ecstasy remains. It will always remain.

It is always the simplest of moments in life that remind us of our presence, how truly alive we are. This can even be said for someone, or something, like me. Watching the ending of the day and the beginning of the night always reminds me of the person I am or at least of the person I think I am. Even in the still of the night I remain as the girl who stands long enough for the sun to set and then wonder if it will ever return. And even if it does, will it ever be as sweet as I remember?

Amazing how the low whistle of a few leaves rustling together can change one's perspective and bring them back towards the persistent crashing of reality. I am not particularly fond of my reality at this moment. In this one I am in trouble, an action never to be committed when your jury consists of angel face demons with sharp teeth. And if this was horrid, and by all means it was, then I cannot wait to see my punishment.

Here he comes now; to bid me hello and yet my thoughts still remain on tomorrow. Was I always this blatantly foolish? Yes, yes I think I was.

"Do you miss it?" my voice barely above a whisper but coming out clear across the still of the night. In truth, it was a bit breathlessly really. But how could it not steal my breath? To think of his pain is something I will never comprehend. The dead always suffers more.

I turned to stare upon the dead man's eyes, a familiar shade of brown that was spun until soft. It always amazed me at the amount of life they held. I remember when I thought that they had died, truly died, laying broken and defeated like the rest all because of her. How I hated those days. How I hated her for bringing them upon him, but they are gone now, and the life remains. The kind of life I crave to see from someone whose heart had stopped beating so long ago.

"Every day." His words were softer than my own as they gently parted from his lips, left to caress the air in its bitter sweet tone before being swept away by the hands of time.

My gaze, now heavy from his remark, fell upon the star struck sky to wonder back to the thought of the sun. Will it ever rise again?

"Eric is still upset by your actions." The immediate change of topic only seemed to strengthen the rising edge towards his tone, as if any moment he will cast me off from its cliff. Bitter, bitter tragedy. I had hoped to prolong this by means of our previous conversation. Alas, I have clearly failed.

"What makes him think it was me?" It appeared to be an obvious and thus justified question in my opinion, yet Bill merely scoffed at me in a way that hinted towards his alliance with Eric's accusations upon me. Regardless, he formed an appropriate response upon my behalf.

"Ginger did not see anyone open the door to lead them towards their freedom. She swears it opened on its own accord." His accent was rich in its original southern dialect, embellished by the rising frustration stuck within his vocal chords.

I could feel the coy smirk stretch upon the thinness of my lips in a way that I never knew it existed. "So it must have been me," I concluded for him, the smirk never faltering; something Bill found to be unappreciative and otherwise unsupportive.

"Eric will arrive here shortly." His syllables were pressed harshly upon the ruff of his mouth before being granted an exist. "I suggest you form an apology before then."

Something about the curve in his throw left me helplessly unguarded as I mumbled under a fixed breath, "Let him be mad at me. What can he do? Kill me?"

Bill and I both knew that Eric of all people would be the one to find the way. In the months I have come to know him, I must admit we have had more rocky starts than a rabbi and a priest finding they were to become brothers in law. In all authenticity, I find myself slightly surprised that he has not found the remedy to this curse my presence inflects upon him. It can't be that hard to end the life of a girl who is already dead.

Bill's eyes had averted from mine in a straight line that feel short of the dusty sidewalks across the street. No words were exchanged for words were not enough during moments like these. The tension in his stride brought me to realize that line that I had crossed, that I had promised to never cross again. It was enough to remind me of the previous arguments we had shared and how much I would hate to falter back towards one.

Instead, I watched him leave. Something about the way people walk away that brings you crashing towards your knees in a fleet of tears as you watch them carry away a piece of your life, a piece they will never return. I watched and waited for him to look back, to acknowledge me one last time before he left, but his head never turned.

And there it was, the hallowed out feeling I have come to know as home.

* * *

_I lay here in the light, a light that bathes me pure. And yet, I remain unseen. I'm right here in front of you. Can't you see me? Can't you hear me? _

_No, I guess you cannot. _

* * *

Bill happened to be correct about Eric's mood. I never knew hatred as raw as his before. It was something black that tainted the fine lines of his life. I could tell this was going to be a long night.

Perhaps in all of his six foot plus masculinity, the most terrifying feature he possesses is not his height but rather his eyes. They were the palest shade of blue I had ever seen and despite their illusive shade, they reminded me of an everlasting fire set aflame upon shards of crystallized ice. Something in the way he looks at me reduces me to a hollow empty shell of my former self. All that remains is fear. A fear so cold and bitter it lapses upon your sides slowly gnawing away all humanity. When everything leaves, the fear remains. It will always remain.

It became stuck, wedged somewhere between the lining of my throat and stomach. It burned. Oh how it burned. My mouth failed to open, refusing to release their bitter flames. And so I swallowed, hard and inexorable.

He just stared at me, glaring with his thousand years of burdened hate. His face was contorted in such horrid rage I feared it would remain for the rest of his years. Eyes, reduced to slits upon the sunken and swollenness that surrounded them, revealed his murderous intensions as they screamed at me in a language I could not comprehend, a language I wish he would never speak again. His lips ripped and curled upon his dead flesh revealing the recollections of his jagged fangs. They gleamed under the fluorescent lighting of the room, something that only seemed to improve his threatening demeanor. The glint in the ablaze of his eyes spoke of no intention of retracting them anytime soon.

Unable to withstand his gaze any longer, I dropped mine to the door. It lay broken and defeated upon the dusted carpet, a minor casualty that needed to be sacrificed for the better of Eric's grand entrance. Even if I were able to mend it, it would never stand the same again. It was broken just like me, just like the rest of us.

"Theatrical appearance," The words had formed from the tip of my tongue before my mouth was able to sustain them. The thought of duck tape crossed my mind several times that night but never I had been so inclined to actually use it.

And there it went, the tip of the ice berg that sunk the Titanic. "Don't you dare patronize me little girl." It was the first he had spoken to me in a while and the words rasped upon the thickness of his tongue, rubbing off as a malice growl that was left to pierce the stillness of the night.

The smirk I had grown accustomed to from Eric was long gone along with his heart. He stared upon me in a manner that I cannot describe in all of my years of existence. Never had I been looked upon with such vial and abhorrence before, and never do I wish to be looked upon it with it again.

I wanted to scream at him, thrash out and yell from the top of my lungs everything wrong with the world. Yet my lips remain frozen, pressed into a small frown that leisurely curled down at the corners. All prior anger had slowly ebbed away with just one look. Now I do not know what remains. I could feel the hole it left me, a hollow emptiness where my emotions should have been. All was lost and all will forever be lost. It numbs the body in the most peculiar way, this loss of mine. I believe I preferred my anger. At least then I was familiar with its harsh blows and ragging demands.

In my absence of speech, Eric had decided to form another low growl. It ripped across the room, dividing everything in its path. "What you did was wrong –"

Within his mid sentence, I suddenly found my anger. Its rage coursed throughout me, leaving something familiar upon my bones. The strength and audacity to stop him mid sentence was regained as I bellowed out a growl of my own. "And what you did wasn't?" I am unaware of the range in my emotions and the effect they have upon my appearance but I am sure if I had tried hard enough, I could set him aflame. Perhaps that is an action I will save for later.

"That doesn't justify your actions!" I had clearly struck a nerve as his voice reached a tone that shook the high heavens above. There was a flash of red that took to be Jessica in all of her curiosity checking upon my sprawl of words with her idol. I wonder if there was a bet forming against me towards my loss of this fight. The thought did little to surprise me.

"And what justified yours?" Numb, numb with anger. Such a wonderful way to die.

I watched as his face smoothed upon the question. Remorse etched itself upon the lines of his heavy eyes, as well as the corners of his mouth, causing them to drag in the most peculiar way. For once doubt had formed upon the contents of his mind. It has heavy and lush as it tipped over to spread its seeds. Unfortunately, their life span was incredibly short. They came and passed, following close along with Eric's sense of emotions. His face was carved from the very stone of his heart, a stone that could never be broken. "We have our own law." It was a mere whisper that took me by surprise. So soft and low the possibility of it coming from Eric was inconceivable.

"Law?" I questioned to find the elasticity in my own tone. "Eric, that wasn't law. That was chaos."

"They killed one of our kind, Danny." Tempers were soon beginning to wail once more and seemed much greater than the last as his low growl regained its rightful property of his throat. He had been passing, lost in thought. Yet he was still now, his mind clear as the ice in his eyes.

I wonder who will be left standing. Me, or the Viking? That seemed to be the question picking slowly at the corners of everyone's mind.

"So you locked them in your basement?" I glanced back to see his lack of emotion. There was nothing there but it was enough to fill my words with spite. "You starved them, beat them, took every ounce of their humanity," there was a dynamic pause between each one that I found myself adding out of sheer persistence of my subconscious. After each one my tone became something unrecognizable to my own ears. The thought of reality came and passed as I heard my callous words, unable to distinguish if I was the true one to say such things. Regardless, it does not matter now. What matters now is that I wanted to hurt him; that much was clear. But I wanted so much more. I wanted him to suffer for his actions, take all the time in the world for him to hear them. I wanted them to be repeated to him in soft spoken whispers that turned into mutilating screams during the dead of night. I wanted them to haunt him, be the only things he ever thought of. I wanted the satisfaction of knowing and inflicting his pain. I wanted him to know he was wrong. "And then you killed them." The word seemed foreign on my tongue and I loathed the way it tasted, charred to a blacken state of perplexity.

His expression was ever changing until finally resting upon a blank stare. The remorse had cracked and crumbled away just like every other emotion he ever had. Anger was the only thing left holding on and even now I can watch it slowly slip away like the rest. I despised the vacant expression he had abided with. I was expecting more screams, more strings of curses, anything that showed there was something still inside him, some spark of life. But now I see that there is nothing left. He was truly dead.

"You don't feel anything do you?" It was a soft whimper now. It shared the same pain in my eyes as they watch him die in front of me. He was so vacant, so empty that I thought if I blinked he would wither away before they opened again. "You just killed seven people and you feel nothing." Such pain, such burden, the mere thought of it stung the confinements of mind. I couldn't stand to be near him, to be in the same room as him. He burns me.

"And what if I do feel nothing?" Curiosity was still something a dead man can form apparently. His words scratched forth upon his throat, tearing and clawing away until breaking free.

He burns me and then laughs, I concluded. Such horror, such unconfined horror.

"Then you shouldn't have killed them Eric." I could feel my throat tighten with every world yet they persisted. "You should have killed yourself."

There was a sudden shift in his emotions; a violent wind that raged passed every nerve. I could tell he was rising from the dead. His body was rigid and pressed against his spine. He would never let me live this down. Our eyes locked, mine in brilliant shade of sympathy and his in scorched rage. They crashed greatly, forming sparks across the room that danced and swayed to the rhythm of our argument.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand." His words were so cold but it made no difference. His mind was now set and there would be no savior tonight. "Vampires are creatures of revenge and defined order. We will never be like you insufferable humans."

His words shook something inside me, something that will never be the same. "Then why are you even trying?" Exasperation was soon closing in, suffocating every thought until they all blurred into one. "What's the point? If this is all you'll ever be then why are trying so hard to hide it?"

For a long moment he did not answer me. When his mouth formed to speak once more, they were not the words I were hoping for. "I expect you to be in Dallas with me tomorrow night. You owe me for this one."

And that was it. Our argument was done and I had survived only to receive my punishment. He left in a furry of wind that managed to knock other furnishings down from their proper place. His last words were still violently ringing upon my ears.

_You owe me for this one_. They still slithered upon the hard wood floor, seeping into the walls where they will stay there for all eternity.

I sighed heavily before biting the bottom of my lip. This was far from over.

* * *

**AN: Thanks so much for reading. I hope you all liked it. Feel free to leave a comment if you like and thanks to those who already put one there and to those who already added this story. Sorry for the incredibly long wait but it's out now with two hopefully coming out sometime soon. **


	3. Chapter Two: Dead Like You

**Pieces of Me**

Chapter Two:

_Dead Like You _

**I'm just someone's memory. And even then, I am just a fading _one._**

* * *

**AN: **Thanks to everyone who read the last one and added the story. Special thanks to those who have messaged and I hope you guys keep at it. I love opening my email to find little words of praise and bliss in there. It makes the day so much more enjoyable. Sorry for the tremendously long wait but here's chapter two. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

_**Nothing: what a horrid word. It suffocates the lungs and burns the throat as it scars the tip of the tongue in its recognition. Truly a cursed word but I cannot seem to mind anymore for that is all that I have left. Bitter, cold and alone left to wonder throughout the poor confinements of my mind. Even now I can hear it buzz and whine as it turns relentlessly, yearning for something I do not have, something I may never have.**_

_**Nothing always sounds like something until you actually experience its white walls of delusion and proper insanity. Desolate lands stretch for miles only to be left to rot away. Not so much as a glimmer of hope remains to save you from this horrid land of ash we have made for ourselves. It's all turned into the blank pages of nothing, blank pages that stretch across this barren waste land.**_

_**Nothing; that's all that I remember and perhaps that is the worst part. Bits of scarps that have been dropped from the table, that's all that I have left. That's all that I have to hold on to. Is that fair? I don't know. I can't seem to remember.**_

_**What I can appear to remember is my name, Danny Chandra. The rest seems to plunge back down into place upon recognition, a little morbid game of hide and seek. The mordant realization of death was my first founder. Unfortunately, figuring out that you are indeed deceased is not a considerate way to start you back on the trodden path of recollection. Walking through an indolent human seems to have a foreboding effect upon yours truly. This trepidation rests callously upon a teenager's shoulders especially one without her memory.**_

_**I am still unaware of the benefits towards being a ghost but I am uncertain if I wish to fully comprehend them at all. They may bind me to this state of mind, an action I wish to relinquish. However, what could come from someone if they are rendered incapable of remembering anything prior to their death. The earliest memory I have is one of me staggering for shelter and comfort. I remember so well because that was the day I met Bill. That was the day where it all began. That was the day I died and became again.**_

_**

* * *

**_

The paved streets of New York City twist and turn amongst one another so vigorously that they eventually blur into one seemingly lane. Each one rendered submissive to the continuous heavy pounded rhythm of oncoming cars. Each one blaring upon their horn as if was their life support, the only things left to hold on to. Streaks of white and red clash upon the streets, yet black is all that remains upon the dense sidewalks. It was easy to fall captive towards the city's rhythmic tune but not for me. For me, I was deaf to the living and their insufferable noise.

I tumbled upon the mid afternoon sidewalk only to be passed as if I were nothing but air. Hurrying alongside a particular lady clad in a velvety fur coat, a hasty explanation rushed forth from out my lips only to crowd the thin line of space between us. Not even a flinch. The words failed to sink within the calico of her skin. She never acknowledged my existence and instead pressed forth with her weekly window shopping extravaganza.

She was having an affair. I am not sure how I know this or came to this widely accusation, but I just knew. I paid no mind to it for I had my own questions to seek answers to. The others would just have to wait.

To the next one and then to the next one, always asking the same questions. Where am I? Who am I? What day is it? Can you help me?

Apparently no one can. A sea full of people painted black with their own sins apparently does not have the time to spend on such outlandish questions. No, they are far too busy wasting away their lives in persistent caution of their own waves. Ironic, is it not that they themselves shall bring about their own demise? If only I could tell them. I fear they will not mark me regardless of the topic I choose.

It was when I tried to make contact that it all fell apart. I caught a fleeting glimpse of hand, something pale and translucent, marked white against the common sea of black. Fuzzy from the dull light of the clouded gray sky, my entire existence had begun to slowly wither away. Even the once dark jade that bound itself tightly to my arms and chest was beginning to wash away along with the faded denim of a once blue pair of jeans. It looked ill and horribly out of place amongst the rolling tides of the blacken New York City bay.

This could not be me, that one miserable thought refused to be vanquished serenely by the creeping notion of trepidation. This could not be happening to me. Despite their frequent disturbances across the rigid surface of my mind, they found no craves to call their home. There was no place for their denial in this land of broken glass and ash and so they fell. They fell like all the others.

The fear came next. It numbed the senses and blinded me by its will. I can still remember it vividly for the fear of being alone is no light matter one can easily subdue. No, it lingers upon the skin until it embeds itself, becoming part of you, a part you will always carry. You bury it in the back of your mind, wishing to conceal it from the world. But it will never be silenced. Even now I can still here its laughter, taunting me, whispering the woes of the world.

I wanted to reach out to them, shake them all and make them believe I exist. But how could I do that when I fail to convince even myself?

I reached out to a nearby man, wishing to feel the soft caress of the glossy fibers that wove his shirt upon the tips of my fingers. I wanted to feel the warmth of his skin and the tension in his heavy shoulders as he lost himself in thought. Instead, my hand sank effortlessly within his arm, never to be seen until he moved only a breath later. My hand was still faded, translucent and far from normal. I turned it up to meet my gaze only to be met by the penetrating glares of the dirty side walk beneath. So pale. So unnatural.

What circle of hell have I stumbled upon?

It was then that I finally received my answer for a gripping sensation tore away upon the center of my being. A middle aged man walking briskly with his leather bound suitcase clutched tightly within the grasp of his weather beaten hand managed to walk through me to only come out sneezing. I felt no pain. I felt nothing really. Absolutely nothing, and that's what scared me the most. Not the fact that he failed to turn back towards me and growl out his apologies or that no one else gasped upon this sight of indescribable events. No, I was terrified because I couldn't even feel the hairs upon my neck rise.

And then I ran. I ran as if my life depended upon it and for all I knew it could.

It was the only thing I could think to do, the only explanation I fooled myself into believing; if I could just make it past that corner I will be safe. This will all disappear and I will return home.

Home. There was a word I had yet to think of. It was now that I wanted to go there, run there with open arms and free of all cares. However, I can't remember where it is or even what it looks like. Surly I have one. I must have one. I wish I could go there now, escape this sea of a black demise.

Lost in a daze of thought, I tumbled into the street, falling hard upon the wearing asphalt only to feel no impact or grinding lesions upon my knees. I looked down astonished to see no blood, abrasions, or even lack or skin. My eyes widened upon the sight.

What am I?

It prickled my mind as it stung its way through, leaving more confusion only to be added to the list of unanswered questions. If only I could feel something, then I would know if I was alive. It was hard to determine if this was all just some dream. I can't feel pain. I could no longer be hurt. What else was there for me to discover?

The raging winds of change could be heard a mile away. The question remains though, do I want to listen? Do I wish to head their warning? I am not sure. I still can't seem to remember.

I was no longer normal, that much was certain. But what have I been reduced to? Some form of a girl? Some empty shell of a person that once existed, once walked the face of the earth to laugh upon the sight of day? What am I?

The wind shifted and blew past me, unable to waste its time upon my silly little questions. It was then I realized it brought forth a new stream of cars. All were painted yellow and all were blaring their thoughts out in snarled growls of honks.

Instincts took hold, forcing me into a stiff duck. I still remember the way that I shook when the first passed by with its horn echoing throughout the narrow passage I consumed, each one louder than the last. It still sends me into the aftershock of memories as the same chills clamp down my vertebra, sliding past the bones and lingering upon the skin. They felt so foreign on top of my spine, so unnatural and unwilling. I face the realization that I may never forget them.

I clamped my hands tightly over my ears but to no avail. The tires screeched past, scratching the surface of the worn out road. I saw them stream through my leg, a flash of black against the insipid flesh. Nothing. The marks it left greeted me through the bioluminescence of my own skin. Indeed it went through me, like everything else.

Fear my old friend. How I have missed you so. Won't you please stay awhile? You left so quickly the last time.

Something instructed me to cry, the only part left within me that remained a gateway towards my normal life. And so I did. Its wretchedness and anguish flooded in and seeped through the corners of my eyes when I was unable to hold more. They stained the flesh of my checks with their forgotten memories as I emerged from the ground only to dart across the remainder of the street.

I continued to run, passing through anything in my way; a small girl walking her dog, a couple arguing about their future, a group of employers traveling to work in a mindless herd, several joggers, and a group of high school students cutting class to simply be with one another. Each on sneezed as I ran past and each one brought more tears to my eyes. They fell hard and uncontrollable. At one point I wondered if I would be stuck like this, crying as I ran from the hand of fate.

I sat curled upon the corner of some back ally way I had managed to crawl into. Hands securely fastened over my ears, I swayed back and forth all the while screaming out to the night. "Please stop! Please stop!" They fell into a soft murmur that fluctuated into a whimper every now and then.

I can't remember how long I sat there but eventually the tears subsided and the screams became the soft silence that listens to the world turn. As I sat there trying to piece what little life remained back together, I was reminded of the void that burrowed itself deep within. When all is gone it will remain, latched upon my very skin. Such a strange feeling, being empty and worthless. And the worst part? The worst part is that there is no one here to hold my hand. No one's here to tuck the stray strand of hair upon my ear and whisper everything will be alright. No one is here to claim me, to smile down upon me, or to even talk to me. No one is here.

I am alone, and with it brings the feeling of a cold despair. I's touch is enough to freeze the bones.

I hate these white walls we have created. So empty and void of color, void of joy. I don't think we know the word anymore. I wish to break forth and find it, to share it with the others. I want to taste it upon my tongue and feel its euphoria when it is called. I want it more than anything but it is not something received when one is alone.

Hollow and alone, the empty shell I have named for myself. Hollow and alone, that's all I'll ever be. Perhaps it was all that I was meant to be.

Hours must have passed since the next moment I opened my eyes for the light around the city seemed to fade away into darkness. The low hum of street lights were carried from ally to ally by the soft wind. There were no people to crowed the dusted sidewalks or to clamp their heels impatiently upon the manufactured ground in hopes the light will change. They were all asleep now, dreaming up a world of joy. I could have gotten lost in the silence of the city and for a moment I believe I did. That's when he came. I blinked and there he was, someone with a conversation brewing upon the tip of their tongue. I could see the words scratch the lining of his throat as they rose into the heavily polluted air that clouded our busy little ally way.

"Hello. Are you lost?" His voice was heavily laced in a thick southern drawl, one that matched the antebellum side burns that framed his pale face in a shade of chestnut. His head cocked to one side when he asked, forcing a lock of his hair to fall into his dark spun eyes.

Then something strange happened; happiness returned. It pulled the corners of my mouth into a smile that I never thought imaginable upon me. It spread to the very tips of my fingers and down to my toes, relinquishing me of the numbing sensation of despair.

"Can you see me?" My own eagerness twisted itself within the blinding rays of hope, wishing upon all stars he could.

His thick brows raised in such a simultaneous state of perplexity that I wondered if I had lost my chance. When he spoke once more I realized the thin gasp of a line that lay between my shoulders and ears, almost as if they were wishing to fascine themselves as earrings. "Why yes," the twang seemed lost for a moment in his brief state of confusion but quickly regained in his moment of clarity, "can't everyone?"

"No." The truth will always be appropriate in moments such as these. It can never fail . . . hopefully. I have already lost once to the bitter remorse of faith and I wish to lose no more. "So far it's only been you." The words tumbled out as blunt, something he found odd yet enlightening. Wishing to no longer spend wasted time upon the hopeless, I found myself quickly admitting, "And yes, I am lost."

To this day I am still unaware of why he decided to help me. Perhaps he thought I was dead like him, a vampire. Regardless, I decided not to refuse anything in this dealt I was given.

"Perhaps I can be of some assistance. Surly someone must be looking for you. What is your name?"

He asked so quickly I had little time to prepare an answer. I heard my own words hanging upon a string in the air. "Danny Chandra," I had answered yet I am still unable to be sure how. I could have sworn I had not known that information prior to our engagement yet here I am handing it out as if I knew it all along.

A quick node in recognition was given before he addressed himself as Bill. He extended his hand in order to compete his attire of a friendly introduction yet it was never grabbed in correspondence. I merely looked down upon it in a foreboding sense that must have startled him for he quickly relinquished it.

"Tell me something Bill," the words were faint but understood, "do I have a heart beat?"

There was a bitter state of a pause that separated me from the tactfulness of my answers. His gaze fell heavy upon my own and in that instant I knew I should have never asked.

"No," the words lingered upon the tip of his tongue, no longer wishing to press forth. The center of his face clinched in upon itself in a bitter puzzlement of a question that may never be answered. "No you do not."

* * *

**AN:** To answer any confusion, yes Danny is really dead and you all now know that she is in fact a ghost but why? Well I guess you will just have to read the next one to find out then won't you? I'm sorry if not enough happened in this one to tip your fancy but there was some information I needed to put in or else you wouldn't understand anything. In other words, you'll thank me in the long run. And for those obsessive Godric fans; hold on, he's coming.


	4. Chapter Three: Night of the Liars

**Pieces of Me**

Chapter Three:

_Night of the Liars _

_**What are you? That seems to be the question upon everyone's mind when I enter the room. Can't they see that I am still trying to figure it out **__myself._

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**AN: Once again thank you all for taking the time to read these chapters and then placing aside even more time to add or review them. I do appreciate all that you guys do. I apologize for the incredibly long wait and I hope that this was worth it. I'm sorry if it does not meet up towards all of your standards seeing as Godric is only briefly mentioned in this one. But do not fret, he will appear later!**

**And towards all the lovely reviews that made my day, I have some words for you:**

**IceyBlueEyes: Thank you so much! You're so kind. I'm glad that you are hooked and you only have to wait a little longer before she meets Godric. I am sorry that it was a bit slow at the beginning but I was trying to build suspense. I hope it worked. And I am glad that someone has figured out the mystery that she is a ghost. I didn't want to just come out and say it so I am glad that you figured it out.**

**Keres Amara: Thank you! I am pleased to hear that you think so. I hope this chapter meets up towards your standards and I apologize for the wait. And to just let you know, I have no intentions of stopping this story any time soon. I hope this chapter is as mysterious and interesting as the last one.**

**Aurora151989: Thank you for your review but I have to say that I am just going to go ahead and apologize ahead of time and state that it must be done. But trust me, it'll all work out. **

**Michellesdaughter: Thank you for being the courageous one and reviewing first! I am pleased to hear that you liked the prologue. I was a bit hesitant in adding it but I am glad that you alleviated those apprehensions. I hope that you enjoy the rest of the story. **

**Thank you all and here we go: **

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The flight to Dallas proved to be less than entertaining, as predicated. A perpetual frown hung wretchedly upon my translucent lips. I was not a fan of being thrown into the sky, surrounded by the metal we used so foolishly. I imagine that if man was meant to fly, then evolution would have saw it fit to bestow us with wings. Despite my jousts, soaring through the sky is not what truly annoys me; it's actually quite invigorating when one catches their breath for it. The clouds that gently kiss the wing's tips as we pass by, the way the sun smoothes their lines, making it appear as if it were from the fabrication of dream, some dazed expression, and not of the atoms of reality. The feeling of height, of being above the world and all its misery that it seems impossible for it to reach us, of being so close towards heaven, the one place that I was denied entrance. It all felt so close, as if in one reach I could touch them all, feel their existence and remind myself of what truly matters. More importantly, I enjoyed how time felt suspended above the world, here in the land of clouds and icy indigo sky. The day stretched on for hours at end, bringing an absence of pain and misery, only the excess of time and the question of how to spend it. Sookie saw it fit to rest for surly we would both be in store for a night on the edge of a ring of inferno and bereavement, but that did little to concern me. Here I was able to think and freely, an opportunity I am not used to being permitted towards. I monopolized it, taking every greedy second, never returning them for this was my time. My time to think, to relax, to remember. If only I could remember. If only I knew. It pains me unnervingly so that I can know the secretes of the world but that I cannot be granted the privilege of knowing my own identity. Who am I to understand the nature of humanity but not comprehend the reality of my one true name?

No, it is the passengers that really set my teeth on edge and it is apparent that I am not the only one carrying these views. There's a cry from every baby's lips as they rock against the nature of their mother, aggression and agitation fused into one hazy emotion in every man's eyes as they were forced to sit still, taking orders that were against their will, and frustration effortlessly emanated from the remainders. All forced together in a brief hour trip causes one to be quite temperamental; even the blatantly humble Sookie, whose manner was more than bedside friendly, was unable to deny the fluctuation of a bitter loathing deep within the wisps of immature verdant in her eyes. Perhaps it was best caused by the man who had tried to occupy my seat resulting in me getting a painstakingly lap full of his half drunken self. Despite not being able to physically see me, Sookie managed to direct the aging man who hit his mid-life crises hard the day his flesh became ink and his hair receded into a faint shaving of gray.

Although still alive, Sookie was still able to hear me which I thought anomalous for any normal human to be capable of. Most humans walk past me or either try to sit upon me, never fully aware of who or what they are blindly interfering with. Quite poetically, that seems to be the curse of humanity. Although, I do admit that I have tested my fate with the attempt of kicking one, but much to my demise, my leg simply passed through the man's calf. Needless to say, it did little to resolve my anger.

Sookie was unusual, and for that I awarded her with the most respect I could manage for sometimes she still acts like an imprudent teenage girl, much like Jessica in her first week of being denied her humanity and forged to walk amongst the dead for all of her eternity. Whenever their hormones have not fully taken over, both prove themselves to be quite amusing to converse with. Now, however, was not that time. It seemed to be her first trip by air which made it quite lucid to witness the fervent rolling forth from her amiably drenched smile. Always one to impress, she wore such vivid pigments of yellow and idyllic honey that competed belligerently against the rays of sunlight that immersed the cabin in its natural setting of light. It forced us all to cover our eyes in aspiration of reaching a sanctuary from its callous hue. Perhaps she will be able to fool time itself and convince it that it is still morning with such a shade.

The hours crept by, almost diffident to spring themselves upon us and make us known of their company. The pilot was taking such a inordinately long time in reaching our destination that I found myself slipping between sentiments that I would prefer to keep consoled. Normally I would not have deemed this vexing but seeing as the others chose to, I was left to wade in the discontent of the crowed, something I do find inconvenient. Our pilot would not be the only one to fall victim towards the malady of paranoia, even I, growing impatient as time progressed in the air, could fall victim towards it from time to time. Fear may be our biggest ally but it is also our greatest means of destruction. It seizes us from the inside, fully unaware of its presence as it forces a domicile from our heart. It guzzles the remaining shreds, commencing with affection and lust then progressing towards those more dominate such as anger and pain, leaving only itself and its dreary ache of survival. Before the impending thoughts of actions wield our mind, we have already fallen from the inside.

First days always seem to linger in this impression of all or none in the fresh new minds and perspectives of the young, and as such, the pilot exhausted his pledge on the security of his passengers by steering around every cloud he deemed suspicious in fear of an electrical storm impulsively casting us into exile from its heaven, tarnishing all of our days but perhaps his a grain of thought more. He had always managed such luck, cursing it as it betrayed his trust, and at first I admired his caution but there is, and always will be, a gaunt line between caution, paranoia, and trivial inanity. The lines become even thinner especially when such duration of time is involved. Six hours from Louisiana to Dallas, Texas doubtfully seems noble or wise. This only leaves one with the option of inanity and I for one was not about to eagerly reject it.

As exasperation expanded from the grudgingly dawdling velocity of time, I became painfully aware of the condition I have established myself in lines to with oblige towards my diminutive tempered nature and lofty moral standings. I presume that I have always realized that Eric would stipulate something in return, a certain bargain as he termed it, but it should not have permitted me from being wiser towards his underlying intents. Naturally he would require my services, seeing as I am indeed indiscernible towards the preponderance of the species existing on Earth; it does tend to compose me as an imperative asset to have. Eric was simply awaiting the defined opportunity to ask for my services and unfortunately I too exceptionally offered him such an advantage.

For as long as I can remember, we have always regressed our relationship, reverting towards our primitive manners and defensive mechanisms. We have never been able to see eye to eye or to even stand to be on the same page and surly that must be the cause of such brutal discrepancy. Hate is not the sole word used to define the framework of our relationship, if it could even be termed such a thing. Perhaps it is more suitable to classify our existence as an encounter for we truly do not know enough about one another to qualify us to even be mere acquaintances. We are no more able to find common ground as a rage of fire is able to understand the water that quenches his destruction. We are opposite ends of morals, pulling apart at one another in order to better understand ourselves. We are different and for that, we will never be able to fully comprehend one another.

The aircraft jerked, its walls lurched out upon us, threatening to subside from the strain of the outside world. We all knew too well what this world was capable of and the malevolence it possesses leaves us reminders in our daily proceedings, a traffic jam, a child's cry, even a plane falling from the sky. This world could be so malicious and yet I have no intention of leaving it.

The rattle of mettle, clatter of luggage, and clutching of seats all signaled the very thing we began to question the possibility of its arrival. A sigh of relief, released from every passenger's lungs pirouetted and ascended into the air, collecting itself to be the amnesty we all held for the pilot upon the tires first taking their tremulous break against the desolated friction of the ground only to repeat the process until all halted.

Dallas, here we are, awaiting your grace to deluge our lives, to provide us with the connotations of your foreign land, to tell us your ambiguity. Speak to me Dallas, and I will listen for I am your sister, your mother, your child. Tell me where he lays and I will no longer beseech you. If it is the only thing you must do tonight, tell me where he is.

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_"Dallas?" I questioned, feeling the noun fluster on the tip of my tongue before seeping through my lips. It sounded coarse, as if never to be made smoothed by civilization. It was meant to be survival of the fittest, a trait all cities share. Images of artificial lighting, buildings that blocked the natural light of the world, and vacant shades of earthy browns flickered through my mind, never truly resting upon one for they all defined it. "What is so important that you are willing to spend a great deal of your," I dithered, incisive for the socially appropriate word used to classify myself as well as Sookie, "resources for us to all travel towards one of the vampire capitals of the world? Let me guess," my tone became unperturbed upon the notion of its own liveliness. "You plan on marrying Sookie and to have Bill as your best man?"_

_"I have neither the time nor the patience to put up with you tonight little girl. Run home and go play with your dolls." Antagonism knew his facial features well as it lined the boundaries of his jaw, resurfacing across the contents of his mouth and the corners of his eyes, tugging them both down to express his greatest disproval; me. _

_The scarlet that hung itself upon the torn walls of Fangtasia seemed to vibrate from the base of the serrated, metal music. Lies and heartache painted the ambiance of the room that lay upon the other end of them and it was as if it caused the walls to bleed in their anguish. It was a distraught building, housing only the immoral and those who seek to find ecstasy on the other end of a bite mark. I loathed it and all it stood for yet I will not be leaving until l am granted the information that I seek. That is the curse that I must abide. _

_"I must admit, that is quite a bold decision. Have you actually told Bill yet or do you think surprising him will be better? In all honesty, I really don't think either approach will work. He will still try to kill you. Not to mention what Sookie will do when you finally confess your attraction towards her."_

_Silence was all he wrote, a sterile form of stillness that rips apart the soul and implores earnestly for clamor, a bit of chatter, or perhaps a rattle, regardless of its obsolete nature. Never permitting his gaze to fall upon mine for fear that a lone glimpse was all that was required to gesture towards the bells of defeat, a chord so lackluster he witnessed injustice in its ring, and to award me the accolade his fallen pride offered; he remained attentive, staunch in his dedication towards the documents that were rashly shuffled across his desk, never bothering to alter their position or to even fabricate an endeavor to read their foreign lexis. He was far too distress to be diverted by such inconsequential drivel that could await a single day before being converted into a priority. _

_I could see it all too close towards the surface, the truth, the one thing that propagates trepidation in his core, allocating it to escalate, to prevail, to curve his emotions and compel him to remember what humanity felt like, what pain felt like. But his resentment shrouded such truth and clouded its lucidity. At its range, I will only require prying a bit more, excavating a bit deeper until I struck it, in order to comprehend this calamity that I was dragged in._

_"You're right. They'll both try to kill you." I concluded, the banter emerging as tedious to keep buoyant when only one person contributes to it._

_He then rose from his chair, taut in his ire and blood covetousness that I feared that if it still remained in me the craving to blink, it would all be over. Arms rigid and affixed towards the asylum of his desk, he leaned upon it, fettering himself to it in order to acquire that brief pause worth of distance between himself and that which he regrets. Fangs hinting their existence in the vindictive florescent lighting only added towards his demeanor as he spoke solely a command. "Get out." His words were serrated, nowhere in the vicinity of the mellifluous streams of consciousness they used to be and therefore no longer inhibiting its glamour. They attested to be rather viscid as they clung towards the roof of his mouth, adhering towards its many crevices in such a frazzled state of abhorrence in the notion of entering the reality of this world. It required brute force in order to disengage them of their embrace and to compose them in such a present tense._

_I did not move nor could I find the will to want to. I want to remember this moment, to mark it upon the pages of history that this was the moment, the single moment that Eric Northman, the great Viking, felt pain, a shred of human emotion, for something. "Careful Eric, you may just be human after all." The leer that played upon the folds in my lips was an intrepid one yet it took such a diminutive anthology of knowledge to be capable of comprehending that it would not make its passage unseen. _

_"Leave." He commanded, tone void of is once rugged vigor. They fell flat; never stirring the credible argument I had primed myself for. He was growing weary of my antics yet I refused to allow them to be used in vain._

_"No," I let my tongue surround itself upon the utterance. The one syllable that marked my impudence and crafted it into the means of such a scanty term was the one unit of language that would resurrect him from this shattered nature of pins and needles. "I'm rather quite comfortable here, thank you." I proceeded to ease back into the headrest of the chair, permitting my extremities to unwind from their trepidation yet lingering in such a pose of vigilance as to not fully pass through it in terror that it would spoil my demeanor._

_"Are you trying to pick a fight with me little girl?" The haughty idiom returned and it was proverbial towards the composition of the Viking's façade as it crossed by means of a leer that bared the sharper of his teeth and gave life towards the lines that marked his visage. A definite ambiance seemed to imitate the lighting around him, besieging him with such an effervescent verve as he became enchanted upon the notion of a challenge, a new enemy to conquer._

_"Maybe," I smiled upon realizing the words that were to come and the actions he will not be permitted to take. "But only because I know you can't do any harm." I observed as the lines that edged his face became more pronounced, engaging in a sharper appearance. "It angers you that you aren't able to strike me, to use the only force of reasoning that you know. I guess you'll just have to rely on your intellect and let's face it, that's not your strongest aspect."_

_He growled in his defense, a low rumble from the throat that made thunder seem like a distant echo caused by his frustration. _

_"Such a way with words as well," I teased, never fully intending to grant this moment a safe passage. "Aren't you just the charmer?" I derided, for once feeling the edge of clout the pride in my choice of words provided. Barely evident even from such a distance, my only prayer was wrapped around the lone thought of falling. _

_"Watch your tongue human," he reviled with disdain as it detained his movements, bending and warping them in ways unknown towards humanity. Deride now embryonic, taking seize of what hostility laid forgotten._

_"Make me." I chimed tauntingly as I tolerated the muscle of my tongue upon the wisps of lucid lips. It hung flaccidly upon the thin break of liberty permitted by my lips, enticing him to attempt to silence it._

_With his lack of impartation considered, I read within the written words of silence that something was erroneous. He purely looked at me, frozen cerulean in a miasma from its trepid decision, a snarl trying to flee from his gated captivity but unable to surpass its barrier. It seethed and seared in its silence. For once I was able to see it, the fluster and the odium that spiraled from it that he has kept at bay for so many years, locked away for none to see until now. He moved in craggy steps, impeded by his burden as he prepared for his departure. The handle upon the door was almost turned and the world quivered in fear._

_"Something's different," I cogitated after his hand lingered on the brass of the knob, leaving remnants of his fingerprints as it breathed a hesitation the likes of which he will lament. It was made lucid that he no longer wished to address or concede my company but I repudiate his leave. I took my time in my scrutinizing, chary in my elucidation as to not miss an asset that could be deemed imperative. I calculated the silence with an open end, assessing the solitary movement of his eyes as they still maintained their resentment. It became glib by sentiments that he was incapable of defining, an astringent array of melancholy and anxiety. "You're not frustrated," I concluded, passing over his appearance in a mere gaze. "You're mad, terribly angry. But not at me. I can easily see that regardless of your attempts of trying to conceal it. You wish you could, that is for certain. You want someone to blame which means that you are not fully aware of who is to be blamed. Someone has committed a crime against you and it is tearing away at you to not know who it is. A mystery you have no intension of solving on your own."_

_Over time his fangs retracted, concealed under the slender skin, priming themselves for a reprisal taking hold on some other day so long as it was not this one. There no longer existed a spirit to fight as his vehemence ebbed away, leaving nothing, a case of him left to be filled with other, more susceptible emotions. "You don't know what you speak of." This was not the Eric that I have come to know. He neither mined nor cared if I were to walk over him, tracing the outline of his dignity where it once held firm but now crumbled under his weight._

_This unleashed ire in me, an undesirable and unexplainable rage that clasped upon the edges of my existence, threatening to tear them apart under its weight. I yelled out, beseeching that their volume will cause him to listen to at least one of their desolated breaths of air, "Hiding behind your paperwork, pretending that the world does not exist. Tell me Eric, what are you afraid of? That I will laugh?" I felt the pause break my callous words in half, leaving their meaning his responsibility to gather as I formed the will to beckon the remaining of my words in a mediator tone. "Although it may be true I am hardly in the mood for humor so before you judge my capacity of comprehension, I suggest that you at least make me aware of what I should be speaking of." The desire for knowledge was strong, something undeniably corrupt in my fabrication of an existence. _

_Even now I could still feel his contemplation, something that flustered the brain and produced tremors he wished to cease. "His name is Godric, sheriff of Area Nine. He was reported missing at sunset and I am trusting you as well as Sookie to find him."_

_Shutting my eyes of such malicious light that intends to blind, I sanctioned the information to seep into their hold of my engagements, allocating the conception of his two thousand year old nature posses me into considering the alternate route and then reporting it to Eric regardless of its imprudence. "Perhaps he does not want to be found."_

_"That is not an option." The handle turned, relieved to no longer be burdened by the weight of his hand. And then he left, bathed in the red tinge of colored lights and the ecstasy and adrenaline the room provided. I could not see the expression that enthralled the corners of his mouth into a frown but I could tell he would never let go, no matter what. _

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Sookie became ecstatic upon landing, her animation brushing upon the folds of her fabric, brightening them with the elation that they carried. No longer feeling the sluggish grip of hesitation, she bounded down the plane's stairs, eager to make Dallas' presence, to shake his hand and deem him a friend.

But first, as does every epic quest commences with, means of encouragement were meant to be found whether it be verbal or lurking in the remnants of a fluid. Sookie preferred hers in a more condensed, liquid state of matter. She drowned herself freely in the first bottle given to her, feeling the sting of its voracity as it burned the throat in its empowering voyage. She later giggled upon the sight of its container, claiming it to be minute enough for dolls to use. This happens to correlate preciously to how I remember playing dolls, with miniature bottles of snub and Jack Daniels.

She gripped the railing limply, using its wintry steel as a guide to help her descend back towards the ground she once knew. She called to a man embellishing a sign, wavering between being barley able to form syllables and keeping her tongue at bay. The slightly inebriated Sookie, still holding on to the culprit that caused such a mess, then began to rattle off her autobiography, commencing with the plane trip and explaining our lack of punctuality by two hours.

The man appeared to be listening but by the way his daze kept flickering back between the coffins it was quite apparent that something else seemed to be pertaining towards his thoughts. He was formed by lines that curved his structure, granting weight to adorn his sides and middle. His eyes, a dull cobalt, were lost behind the aging rims of skin that surrounded them. His nose, crocked and pointed to the extent of his personality, seemed like such a lifeless characteristic as well as seeing it fall short from his mouth a couple of centimeters before being deemed attractive. The tear dropped indention was all that was left to connect towards his lips that proved to be rather thin and capable of permitting his teeth to penetrate their obstruction of view, allowing his two front teeth to be seen in all of their stained attire. Overall he was rough, rigid, and void of certain emotions that would consider him to be credulous.

He rambled as he stuttered over an explanation, barley able to form a word that was coherent. I watched as his tongue slid across the jagged lining of his teeth; a nervous tick of apprehension I have discovered. It produced a shiver to embark through the tunnels of my vertebra. He seemed to not care much for us or for those who we choose to socialize with as his eyes scrutinized the caskets once more, giving way toward the furrow of his brow as they pinched together in their trepidation. The way his eyes fell over their locks was similar in the way a mouse awaited the arrival of his enemy the cat.

"Don't trust him," I heard myself breath in a sign of warning to whomever would listen, hoping it was Sookie who would heed my words. I disliked this sensation of apprehension his existence instigated in me.

She leaned forward, smile vanished, all intoxication alleviated as she entered yet another mind, grazing the door with her ability. The thoughts became her own, flooding all stream of consciousness, the sole thing she heard. What she saw she was highly not fond off and coincidently permitted a gasp to escape her lips, allowing it to hang dejectedly in the air that could be her last.

Seizing his final opportunity, his hands grasped the arms of his golden rimmed prey, steering her closer towards her prison. Naturally his spontaneous movements never allowed nor permitted the fabrication of a plan and as a gentle, yet career changing side effect, Sookie's mouth was free to speak out all emotions she felt. They all appeared to blend together and blur their defining lines into a single scream that beseeched the man to let free his captive.

Startled, for I am unaware of what else to call it, I felt the adrenaline mask my many nerve endings, heightening the senses yet numbing the process of thought. I was at a lost as to what action to perform. I was helpless, a statue, an unnatural life form and I despised myself for it. I could only watch as Sookie thrashed against the man, flailing her arms out in an attempt to be free once more, pleading to the night for this to not happen again.

And then the lights flickered, flooding the room in a sudden darkness that spiked the already overly exuberated adrenaline levels of those inhabiting the room. They wavered between their operation, never remaining on a fixed point. Life was uncertain if it should continue.

I felt the fear. It transmitted from Sookie and surrounded me, engulfed me in its desire and will for survival. It was cold, unusually so as it chilled the bones and ceased the heart in its rhythmic beating. It was fresh and overwhelmingly strong. I could hold my tongue out and taste it, feel the bitterness it provided if I willed to but I imagine it would only blaze what it caressed. The lights lurched forward from this discovery, unpleased by its scientific empowerment.

I wished for it all to cease, the screams, the cries, and the contemplating lights. I wished it all to remain normal, a fraction of what it once was. "Bill," the name cried out towards the immobile casket, beseeching his aid.

Through the fading light I glimpsed images of Bill grasping the hands of the man, commanding his actions to halt under full awareness of the finer tips of his fangs already being extended. The casket that once contained him lay shattered from the inside as its door, the only reminder of its once existence, laid slightly distorted, only being left dangling in the air from its iron clamps. The man, stationary in his natural state of fear, could only stare at the vampire that now held is his life with a dubious expression, all the while cursing his training for never preparing him for such a situation. He was trained for the capture of vampires, not to survive if it were to happen to fall the other way.

The lights remained on as I fell back towards my usual nature of diplomatic observation. The adrenaline ebbed away leaving small remnants of its self in a tedious ache of the limbs, reminding me of its previous existence. The trepidation subsided leaving only the knowledge it had created, the knowledge of its memories and the words it used to speak to us, to tell us all was ill.

Then the bagging began; audible knocks that rasped against the silence of the night from a short distance away. It ripped us from our reality and landed us in a foreign one, imploring us to focus. "Hey! How the hell does this thing open?" the muffled cries from Jessica broke the final fear coated string this reality held on upon us. It snapped just as the rest had when the knocks were realized to be fashioned by her hands as the coffin slid upon the ground, never permitting her access towards the outside world.

A rather perturbed Bill loosened his hold upon the man's neck, providing only enough space for him to reach the raspy breath of air he desired, but not permitting a monopoly upon their encounter. The very last thing Bill Compton held on his mind at the moment was the comfort of his mate's attacker. His upper lip arched in its slanted form of disproval.

I merely laughed upon the sight, a soft array of chuckles that cleansed the mind of all previous encounters of peril. When met by the interrogating eyes of Bill I only had this explanation to offer, "You have to admit, it is kind of amusing."

Somewhere within the rationalization of the night, we all came to assume that this night would not be the longest yet to come.

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**Author's Note: Thank you for reading. Please feel free to review and add any criticism, expressions of adoration (hopefully), or ideas. Don't worry, I won't bite. I leave that to the vampires in True Blood. Thanks again towards all of you who reviewed and/or added this story. You're amazing! **


	5. Chapter Four: Secrets Written in the Sun

**Pieces of Me**

Chapter Four:

_Secrets Written in the Sun_

**To be alone is to be truly **_dead_**.**

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**AN: As per usual I would like to apologize for the horribly long wait. I was without my laptop for an entire two weeks! Naturally I experienced strikingly characteristics similar towards withdraw symptoms and was unable to update or reply towards anything. I had high hopes of finishing this chapter before I left but sadly I fell short upon time. I am back now and have updated but I am unaware for how long I will remain with internet privileges. A new vacation time is presenting itself and I tend to exploit it. In order to make amends, I offer you Godric! Well, a couple of seconds of him at least. As always I would like to thank all the lovely readers out there who are spending their day reading this! Special thanks goes out towards all of you who reviewed, added this story, and/or who added me towards your favorite authors list. You guys rock! Without further distractions and rambles, I present to you chapter four: Secrets Written in the Sun. Please Enjoy!**

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_Do you know what it's like to wait? I'm sure that you do, everyone comprehends this emblem of time. I am sure that I do not need to explain to you how it fills the void of time and space yet but of no clear emotion, only a haze of uncertainty. Uncertainty of what the future may store because as you sit there, waiting, the world is deciding, hanging upon a thread, debating about whether or not to fall. _

_And if it falls, would the world truly end? Or will it start anew, reborn from the ashes of its fallen brethren? Will it repaint the sky, the grass, the trees? Will everything be as we remembered it to be or will there exist a crack, a line across the face of the earth, a scar that will never heal? What would happen if we let the world burn in our gaze? What would that make us? The villains or perhaps by some stretch of luck the heroes? _

_And when the towns crumble beneath the very soles of our shoes, what would we do? Place our hands in our pockets, whistle a forgotten tune and be on our way? Or would we even have the patience, the courage to care? _

_At this point in time, one question is all that remains; the cursed "**what if**?"_

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"His name is Leon," I answered, the corners of my mouth plummeting in their disproval of the arrangement of letters. "He was hired by the Fellowship of the Sun to abduct Sookie and possibly the two of you if it could have been arranged."

"Are you sure?" Disconcerted, Bill moved unsteady in his question as if unsure where his footsteps should fall. Eyes glancing over the man who threatened to end the life of his mate, his partner, perhaps even his one true love, and he became detested by what filled his sight, the quivering delineation of a distraught man on the verge of losing all that he once knew, all that he had held dear, all he deemed imperative and let flood the contents of his life, painting it the way it chose, coloring the lines the way only tangible items could.

"Indubitably so." It eased me to exploit such a declaration. My senses had returned and with them they brought their insight, the wisdom and knowledge that I will forever crave. The man that held our gaze, this Leon, was no murderer by any stretch of the word. Sure flies have laid victim towards the wake of his hand but which one of us is not guilty of such an act? Even I, unable to form physical contact with the world, still find myself pestered by the presence and swat at their arrival from time to time only to no avail.

"He is not a member?" Bill repeated his sequence of queries, fashioning a shattered record from the tip of his tongue. If left to wade in his vexation he will surly drown in his interrogation; a means no one will profit from. Well, perhaps Eric will not be blind towards its silver liner but all the more reason I decided to cast out my life preserver and ease the man's suffering.

"No," I passed over his facade once more, even more assured than the preceding elucidation, "he was hired to perform the kidnapping. I suppose the church did not want to directly link themselves towards such an instant. You have to admit that it would seem unholy if they were found with their hand caught in the abduction cookie jar."

Sookie sat in a similar fashion that complimented the vacant stares that Jessica shaped. Neither fully understood the depravity of the situation whether it be from their lack of interest or incapability to concentrate after such a disgruntling circumstance. It was clear that neither could grasp the understanding that a church would commit such a felony by their dubious glances and overwhelmed eyes that sat heavy, already on their way towards making this day a truly memorable one. If only they knew the extent of what churches have accomplished in order to appear victorious.

Bill, unable to quell his vampire tendencies, still required the aid his glamour provided. It felt as if a serpent was unleashed, rattling its tail as it seeped through the backseats. It surged through the consciousness, bustling in the similar fashion of broken glass and the vibrations produced when one traced its rim. Covetousness, supremacy, and an unmistakable course of trepidation tangled together in the balance of oxygen particles, beckoning the truth from wherever it hid. Despite it not being able to alerter my perceptive, I could still feel its existence. It rippled across the spine, leaving traces of ecstasy wherever it lingered, perhaps the toes or the tip of the nose. It remained in the back of my mind, as if it were a pressing tension headache and not the forceful persuasion of some surreal cause.

"Who do you keep talking to?" Leon formed the likes of his own questions, still not fully grasped by the hands of intoxication. His eyes dulled as if upon the brink of death and his words sounded as if they were an echo even towards his own aged ears. Face void of all true emotion, he was left an empty vessel to stare upon the space the world provided in his amusement.

Smile stretched thin towards the very brink of its existence, Bill clasped upon the notion of remaining composed. Even he understood the lack of beneficiary need to dispose of such a person in an inhuman way, regardless of his desire to. "It's none of your concern," He appeased, words dripping upon the night's air in the fabrication of a gentle stream. He proceeded to claim that all was secure while indeed it was solely a lie. "Now, can you tell me who you are?"

Leon proceeded to provide Bill with identical information towards the words that I spoke, practically verbatim if one were to remove the unnecessary "the"s and" uhm"s. Noticing the spark of amusement that flocked Jessica's façade and seized her attention, Bill pursued this opportunity as the ideal time to teach her how to control her Jedi ways. Already she had managed to hoodwink the man out of his cell phone. She proved to be quite the natural, a creature the open coffined vampire world would someday be proud of.

The entire ordeal was growing quite tedious, and in order to break such an unorthodox interrogation, I proceeded to remind Bill that tardiness is frowned upon even in the land of supposed mythological creatures. He appeared to scoff upon the notion of being patronized as if he was a child yet he obliged, determined to make our arrival known other than by the very hands that aspired to vanquish us.

The hotel was quite lustrous, nothing more than what I would expect from the Viking. He always had the tendency to pick such places that embellished the wide spectrum of reds the world provided. It stood in all its wonder twelve stories high as if to cast the light of the moon and beckon those entranced by its numinous splendor.

As Bill proceeded to perfect our living arrangements, I saw it fit to use such a duration of time to wander the untamed halls of the Hotel Carmilla. Such a daring task I know, but I have become accustomed to living on the very edge of danger that I no longer view him as the enemy but the ally he was crafted to be. Chairs were occupied by wistful humans appealing towards the needs of the undead in order to be viewed as complementary refreshments. The cupidity hazed the very hues upon the walls, appearing as a blush that embarrassed even the inanimate and as such, I felt a great deal of trepidation for entering such a building. If these were the kinds of people Godric affiliates with, then surely he is no better than Eric.

Left to wander such foreign halls, my mind was left to drift between the wakes of its pressing thoughts. Who is this Godric? Clearly there is more to him then Eric left me to believe or else there would be no reason for our clearly out of district presence. Just from his name I was able to gather not only the first millennia of wisdom but the second as well and yet they told me such a dismal nonentity; no exultant tales of triumph, only gapes left to bring me towards the brink of insanity.

The train of thought vanished, halting upon its very tracks upon discerning such an aired sound that wavered within in the hall as if unclear of its own path. It lingered the way only the sound of tears could. Curiosity fully sinking within, providing its false sense of valor, I slipped past the opening a perched door provided and followed such a poignant sound. It was no stranger yet it sounded anomalous coming from some entity other than me. It was flimsily light, almost unbearably so, and was preceded by the muffled gasps of breath that rose fuel towards it flames. Its trail ended upon the sight of a young woman, crying into the placation of her pillow.

My hand reached to her, wishing to convey the argument that someone remained, someone who could provide an aid, but it stilled upon the view of her frame from inside my insipid flesh. I recoiled, fingers lapping upon the other as it approached my side upon the realization that physical contact was not permitted. I was incapable of mitigating such an anguished woman's ache and in its own perverse way it pained me, more so than anything I thought imaginable could.

"Who are you?" She spoke with a tone of air; her words whispering to the night air in a means to summon forth the information that she seeks. Her head was turned to meet mine, covered in its array of golden tendrils that looked as if they were spun from the very hands that crafted such a striking world. She looked as if she belonged with the Earth, a piece of its puzzle that fits perfectly with a snap. She was born with such lucid green eyes that looked as if the world could be seen within them. She was beautiful in every essence of the word and I felt the pang of regret as I saw the despondent reflection of myself in her eyes.

"Oh, you can see me," I spoke elusively, as if trying not to disturb the universe with the sound produced by my vocal chords. Promptly taking a step back, never wishing to impose upon a person in a time of their greatest distress I spoke in such a dazed ramble that I am sure to be embarrassed by it for days to come. "Well, that changes everything. I'm sorry to disturb you it is just that I heard you crying so I became curious, and," It was unclear what I should speak of next. I was never one to be taken off guard in such a way but her tears held such a hold on me, "you should really lock your door." I managed to state rather lamely, all thoughts of conceit vanquishing from my mind upon the realization that such words were spoken from my insubordinate tongue.

She stood, refined in her attempts to right her wrongs. It was upon noticing the crimson hue that soiled her pillow that I began to realize what she was, a vampire. Instantly I felt the anguish that once consumed her, it was sluggish in its nature as it ran coarse through the veins. It seized the breath, never intending to grant it back towards its departure.

"I'm sorry for the noise," words hastily pressed forth from the thin gap between lips as she wiped the remnants of bodily fluids from the rim of her eyes. It coagulated just under their rims, rendering it difficult to remove but it never ceased her attempts. "It is just that someone very dear to me has been taken." Her fingers traced the furrows within her lips as if in conjecture if it accurately was her who produced such words. Together they collected into the core of her palm where it clasped upon her mouth as the red threatened to fall once more. Her shoulders lurched, marking her with a striking appearance of caving upon herself.

"Godric?" I breathed, unable to bring myself to look back towards the ache that captivated the verdant in her eyes. It breathed in such fire that I feared I would be burned from just a mere gaze, even the slightest bit of a glance would cause peril.

She nodded, unable to find the will or the words to speak. She was befuddled as to how to express her emotions clearly, seeing as she has spent the past decades concealing them, and as such she fell back upon the bed, sinking within its sheets, pensive that it would permit her with some sort of reassurance regardless of its minute size.

It only took this moment for all uncertainties to be decided. I would help. I would bring him back, no matter the cost. I would force him to live again for everyone deserves to live if there are those who cry over them when they are gone. Despite him being done with life, it is clear that life is not quite done with him. Heed my words Dallas; I will find him.

I expressed my condolences in a minuscule nod of the head and left as swiftly as I had arrived, no longer wishing to feel the weight of her sorrow. It became unbearably heavy upon the shoulders as it accumulated over time, purging the room of any bliss that might have still lurked with in the corners. It dripped upon the windows like sadness running down to meet the desolate ground, to feel its end and understand that it would not be long before its existence was snuffed from this world.

I found my way back towards Bill, lingering within every step as if I wished my ability to move would cease. It caused such pain, these feet that bring me towards new places, horrible places that I wish to forget. I remembered the lamented girl and wondered if someone cried like that for me. Did they feel the sorrow she felt when they realized my existence was no more? Did they isolate themselves from the world in order to feel the silence's hand wipe away their tears or were there none? Were there no tears for Danny, no one who loved me enough to forge such a poignant thing?

Sadness is the name of the corridor that I have stumbled upon. Pity is the name of its friend that lingered within its frame. Together they will vanquish the world of all its wonders. Together they will bring us towards our knees.

Sookie was in a frenzy when I stepped over the threshold, scattering about in a whirlwind to place everything in its correct location as if the world did not align in this instance then her own would crumble. It was an attempt to occupy her limbs with trivial mechanical labor in order to prevent her mind from wondering upon thoughts of the day and, more importantly, her abduction. I was not one to judge for clearly had I not just committed such an act?

Bill paced in the hallway of the adjoining rooms, steps frenzied in his own anger. His tone was sharp and bitter as it stretched across his words in a jagged display of their raged demeanor. His phone appeared fatigued in the palm of his hand, fearful that any more resentment may cause the hand to tighten and its life to end. It was quite normal for his conversations with Eric to take this course.

Leon sat upon the couch, dazed in his perplexity. The contours that shaped his face all seemed to pinch towards the bottom center. Even the scar he received from a hunting accident seemed to drupe in his new found discovery; that all his worse fears were about to arrive. This information was naturally provided by one Jessica Hampy. The accused girl now sat barricaded in her own room, chattering upon the stolen cell phone that she recently acquired from her new found talent, deceit. Whenever Bill would yell at her, she merely diffused his response with her own stating that she was on the phone and clearly not to be disturbed. I was beginning to approve of her. Naturally I had my doubts at first; we all did when her attire changed drastically to better accommodate her change of species. Where as she no longer dressed like a brat clad in all black, she still carried the personality of one from time to time but for the most part, she can be quite reserved and enjoyable to be in presence with. Unfortunately, this was not one of those times.

I sighed upon the sight of the cluster of beings, not one finding this trip to a new location exotic or droll. I stepped passed them all, too diverted in my own thoughts to be bothered by theirs as I graced the edges of the balcony. It was a hazy night as its disorder masked the sight of the clouds, darkening them in their uncertainty. I would find him, regardless of if their assistance was acquired or not. My quest begins tonight and I will not perish as others have.

My thoughts dragged across the surface of my mind, skimming it, forming patterns in its wake. They soon spread until one by one they consumed the entity, ripping apart all that lay in its path until it was the lone thought left. The thought of others being out there, the idyllic thought of others caring for me, crying over the news of my departure. I would find them, if they indeed existed.

My thoughts plummeted from the wake of my mind upon hearing the smooth sound glass made when being slid into its place. Glancing over my shoulder, never fully intending to move more than my head, it was apparent that I was no longer alone. Sookie collected the folds of her fabric before connecting towards the stone seats, permitting it to billow out after she found herself comfortable upon her resting place. "Danny," she spoke in octaves I never imagined I will be able to obtain as the southern accent bended them in ways I was still not quite use to hearing. "Please tell me you are here because I'll feel like a big idiot if I'm out here just talking to myself."

"I'm here Sookie," I replied between breaths reserved for chuckles. Their presence seemed to ease her mind in ways that will remain unknown to me as her limbs began to visibly relax, requiring the use of its muscles no more.

"I wanted to talk to you about the lights." Her gaze began to drift downwards upon the mention of such an object, as if the stones formulating the floor abruptly became a new allure. "Maybe I am just going insane but you saw them right? Flickering?"

"Yes," I spoke after a moment's breath worth of silence. "Although I must admit that I was bit more preoccupied about your safety than wondering about the electrical wiring of the airport."

She laughed lightly as well, the first bits of bliss that I have heard flooding from her lips since the arrival of the plane in Dallas. "I was too. But don't you think it was a bit," she hesitated upon the variety of her vocabulary until finding one that matched her desire, "well, odd. Especially the timing."

"I suppose so." I scanned her face, searching for some desirable inkling as to better elucidate what might have created such a desire for this conversation. "Do you think that I had something to do with it?"

"Either one of us. maybe. I'm not too sure if it is me though because I have been staring at a lamp for the past half hour while Bill has been on the phone with Eric and I haven't been able to get anything out of it other than a headache. I think I am just a telepath but you, I am not so sure about you."

I dismissed the topic without any further means of a discussion. I was simply a ghost and that is all that I will ever be. That is all that I can handle at the moment. I was at the start of forming my disproval into words when I registered the commanding presence of Eric beckoning Bill for a meeting in the bar. I had no intensions of allowing Bill to appear towards the meeting unaccompanied. I would escort him regardless of where his approval lies. Sookie will simply have to understand my priorities.

In a side way glance shared with Bill, everything was spoken. All uncertainties, all unease about the situation, it all lay within that look, lapsing upon the soft spun amber in his eyes. He wanted Sookie out, that much was apparent. I did not possess the vindictive heart to inform him where Eric's interest laid upon the matter. I know that somewhere inside him he realized it as well.

The bar was just as I predicted it to be, engulfed in such a sea of scarlet it provided a sudden craving for strawberries but perhaps something more satisfying for a vampire. The other colors that mixed into the room were from the patrons, wearing similar shades of midnight black and cream.

I sat upon on the many crimson seats the bar had to offer. I was located conveniently with my back towards the wall and gaze looking out upon both Bill and Eric and possibly the crowed if their conversation were to grow too dreary for my taste. Eric glowered upon the sight of me, eyebrows hitched within their own means of disproval. Clearly he is less than pleased to see my face before midnight.

He was the first to sever the silence the tension between us all produced. He drew in his breath with assurance, causing it to sound dry within his mouth as he then released it in the form of his insults. "I admire you Bill, it takes a real vampire to admit that he cannot protect his human."

"And it takes a true monster to not care about anyone or anything other than himself." Bill retorted, letting the palms of his hands rest upon on another as his elbows laid fastened toward his knees, a look of contemplation as he surveyed the countless ways this conversation could unravel. For me, there was only one way that I wished for it to go and I would strive for it to reach such a goal.

"I care about others." He protested, the lines of his mouth forming into one as he too saw where this dialogue would eventually lead, Godric. I scoffed upon such a weak minded retort which rightfully earned me a scorned look but I merely over looked it. I have received so many of them from him that they all begin to lose the terror they once held within me.

"You care about Godric." I stated, wishing for my voice to be heard upon the matter. His expression softened upon the name, uncrossing his arms and unwinding his defenses.

Eric failed to meet my gaze for some time, a trait nominated cowardice or week by some yet for him it was deemed suspicious. He reprimanded Bill or his lack of maturity through jeers and my lack of patience by switching topics. It was until Bill reminded him of my statement then did he truly realize that neither of us were satisfied by being left wandering aimlessly in the dark. He stumbled upon his words, opening his mouth but then closing it as he saw a more socially appropriate answer, one that cuts his ties from any holds of this world. "He is much beloved by his subjects."

Bill scoffed upon the notion of such a ludicrous explanation leading me only to believe that our dear Viking friend is not letting out the extent of his knowledge, something I find most troublesome. "Only kings and queens have subjects, Eric, not sheriffs."

It was apparent that Bill would have continued to speak if Eric would have granted him permission yet the Viking's tongue and rueful pride became quite the obstacle o overcome. "Godric could have been King of Texas if he had wanted. He could have been King of any vampire territory anywhere. He is twice as old as I am and very powerful. There are none above him in the new world." His tone settled upon a vengeful anger, the likes of which will take a great deal of time and carefully constructed words to settle. Eyes still refusing to meet ours, they fell upon the floor, burning holes within their heated gaze.

"How could he have been abducted then?" I inquired, imploring Eric to see the grace of wisdom for once in his life. The answer could be in his grasp if only he was to reach out and seize it yet he made it apparent he did not possess such a will.

"That is what worries me. If one such as he can be taken by humans than none of us is safe." His gaze shifted distinctly towards Bill, hinting towards their existence in the same species boat condemned towards extinction.

In a rush of rugged movements, Bill was leaning forward, almost off of his chair with his proposition, "What can I give you to release Sookie from her agreement?" His façade appeared earnest, every line stretched thin in his anticipation.

"Nothing." Eric too held his own look of earnest yet he appeared glib, but somehow more collected in his finer details than Bill was able to accomplish. He proceeded in his explanation towards Bill that if Sookie were to conveniently disappear then he was unsure what events would unfold seeing as the vampires here tend to view themselves as cowboys, implying that rules were looked upon as guidelines and lives are expected to be added towards the collateral damage if they were to be set loose.

The difference between Bill and me is that I do not settle nor do I walk away when matters are left to be discussed. When he left, incensed by Eric's ambiguous motives, I stayed, lingering upon the words that I would beckon next. I settled upon haste, agreeing that ripping off a band-aid is easier to do in one fatal pull. "I know about your ties towards Godric but don't let it interfere with Sookie's life. She deserves to live."

Muscles tensed, jaw clenched, his weight shifted towards my favor. His eyes burned from the words produced, each syllable sparking a new flame just within the space between the cerulean and verdant. "And what about Godric?" If there was any remnants of surprise, he was concealing them exceptionally well within the folds of his antagonism.

"He has already made up his mind." I treaded lightly upon the sentence, comprehending that its meaning will not be favored. "But I will do all in my power to convince him otherwise. I'm infiltrating them tonight."

"Be back by sundown. We have a meeting with the two lieutenants." His eyes rolled in their annoyance over trivial talk with limited action. It was evident that reliance was not among the emotions he carried for his fangs could still be seen when his lips pated in their speech.

"I expect a favor in return for my services." The words finally managed to be pressed forth, no longer threatening the life it once consumed. My gaze found his with certainty, expressing their clarity and earnest for once.

"You are hardly in any position to be asking me for favors, little girl."

"It will not be payment for finding Godric. It will be for holding my tongue so Bill isn't mysteriously informed as to who invited Loreane."

Silence loomed upon the conversation as he stilled within his own contemplation. Taken aback, surly any sensible being would considering this was Eric's method for retrieving information he desired, his fingers laced within themselves, offering his palms towards the rest of his chin. He was receiving a dose of his own medication and he found it blunt in taste. "What are your demands?"

"It's about my family."

"I refuse to release Sookie from her contract." His weight shifted back within in his chair as his arms spread across the surface, conquering its very corners as his leg rest lazily upon the other near the ankle. He was prepared to negotiate upon reasoning terms and he made it quite apparent that Sookie's presence was not among the items on the list.

"Not that family," my tongue ran bitterly across the mounds of my teeth, dissatisfaction in his incapability of comprehension surfacing in its wake. "I want to know who my _real_ family is, if they even exist."

"Why not ask Bill?" He was intrigued as to why I asked such a favor in him seeing as neither of us considered the other worthy of our friendship. I also deduced a more personal reason emitting from him, the need to be superior. Knowing was simply not enough for Eric; he wanted to be told, preferably in words that highlighted his beneficial traits.

"You have certain," my flow of speech paused before commencing once more with the appropriate response, "resources that Bill is not able to acquire seeing as you are Sheriff."

"Bring me Godric and I will find your family." His tongue ran fluently across the words, as if he had awaited their arrival for some time. His voice held the velvet lexis of desire yet laced within them were their demanding presence. Everything he states must have a cost attached within their syllables. Why would this be any different?

* * *

I cannot remember the last time I stepped over the threshold of a church to be greeted by the amorous grace of God and the sanctuary his chapel provided. In truth, I have never seen a church from the inside before. I have always heard stories that speak of its presence and the general knowledge of what belongs inside them yet the rest was left to be fabricated by the remnants of my imagination. I was eager; no, inquisitive. Perhaps a bit of both to witness such a structure from the inside and not visit it in the whirled words of someone's speech.

The institute was beautiful; the lone word that could truly describe such a structure. The lawn, as verdant and vivacious as I imagined it to be, stretched out for what appeared to be miles on it, giving way towards a scatter of buildings and smaller fields appropriate for recreational purposes. The church barred the cross upon its highest beam as if to signal towards God man's creation for Him. Even in the darkness of the night I could tell that it would become illuminate in the idyllic rays of morning's first glow. It was such a ignominy it will be destroyed if all was left the same and neither Bill nor I were bold enough to interfere.

I stood in front of its grand double doors, embellished in cherry oak that glistened in the light of the moon, as I prepared myself for what might greet me on the other side. Fingers curling towards their center, seeking protection from my actions, my palms collapsed within one another. Letting the night's air embrace my lungs, I allowed it to swell inside before releasing it in a shaky uncertainty of what was to come. Sliding forward I placed my hand towards the door, inching forwards as if to not surprise myself nor its frame. With ease it was lifted from sight, awaiting my presence behind the closed door. I did not leave it alone for long for within mere seconds I gained the valor to embark on my journey through the inanimate.

Within the releasing of my atoms, it brought with it the feeling of such ease, of tranquility, a saccharine sense of relaxation. I felt as if I could unravel my entire entity, allowing my very atoms to reconnect and form something new, something other than me and allow my soul to be released from such a tangible prison. It was as if I were wading in clouds, feeling its moisture tickle the senses, amused all the while it embraced me, as if I were its companion, as if I belonged in its arms and should deem it my home. And then I was whole, my soul remaining prison in such translucent, artificial flesh with the sealed door behind it.

Within the sighing moment, I departed, the remnants of my presence resurfacing until it collected together, forming the sole thought that spread across the contents of my mind. I had a task, a purpose designed for me. I will rescue Godric. It seemed odd that I needed countless reminders as if by every turn that I take I must remember his name in order to keep focus. Perhaps it is just the way I enjoy repeating his name. It rolls off the tongue similar towards the way a lover would kiss. The way the two syllables entwined to create such a name, it was as if it were magic only known towards his identity. Danny sounded atrocious compared towards such a literary masterpiece. Even the vibrant Alejandro fell short upon the power that was wielded within in the letters of Godric. My mind was left to wander if his physic matched the characteristics of his name.

Stopping within mid pace, I set eyes upon likely the most picturesque thing. The church was flooded within the grace of the moon's light. It bathed the pews in its glory as it stretched across the boards of the room, embracing its contents in a similar fashion. But it all was left trivial compared towards the podium that lay in the center of the stage. It stood, burly within the light, a beckon towards all those in need of rousing words and lifting of such a grave heart. It was such a indignity its power was wielded by the hands of those who crafted silver for the sole purpose of annihilating that which it cannot comprehend.

I continued my journey, fearing that I had let the hours dwindle for too long in my observation of the monastery. I remained vigilant, permitting my eyes to covetously read the words that marked every door. It was upon the arrangement of an office that I postponed my quest for a slight digression by the means of a fieldtrip. I slid within the door, becoming part of its wood and then something greater as I repapered on its other side. My eyes wandered upon the various sites within Steve Newlin's office, recording each one idiosyncratically as I searched for information; the leather that bounded his chairs, the wood that framed them, the writing held within the pages scattered across the desk, anything that would bring me closer towards him. It was there within the middle of his desk, suppliant for the grace of my gaze to captivate its life, a note that read the words I wished to seek.

To the basement I departed, disregarding the residual rooms as if they were nothing more than assemblies of debris, lustrous within the light to captivate the attention of those with ineffectual minds. But not I. No, not I. I must be superior than that, if all else fails, please let my mind remain.

I slid into the door, fervent to see what awaited me on the other side as if it were Christmas morning, yet another event I have no recollection of experiencing first hand. To my instantaneous censure, I landed upon a flight of descending stairs. Unable to tamper with their antics, I breezed past them, leaving me with the wonder if I ever fully made contact with a single step.

There he sat, cross-legged, awaiting my arrival. His eyes looked upon mine in exploration for something I may never comprehend. And oh, how he looked upon me as if I belonged inside this very cage of the nameless unknown.

Dallas, I have found him.

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**AN: Thank you for reading! I hope that it was towards your standards. If not, then I apologize but I was trying to post this as quickly as I could so I might have had to cut some corners. I hope that at least one of you reviews! I would love to hear your feedback, ideas, and even criticism! Feel free to PM me as well! Also, my email should be listed in my profile if any of you feel the need to email me although I can not think of any reasons that you would need to. Nevertheless, it is another means of communication there if any of you need it, even if it is just to say the random hello. Thanks! And if you have not figured it out, there will be more of Godric in the next chapter. Sadly I must use him as a hostage in order to receive your cooperation. So, if you ever want to see him again then you should review, email (if completely necessary), and/or add . . . . please? **

**In a side note that I feel completely necessary to add; have a great summer! Plus, hit that review button! Hit it like you mean it! **


	6. Chapter Five: Where the Mighty Fall

**Pieces of Me**

Chapter Five:

_Where the Mighty Fall_

**We all have days where the depression consumes us, tricks us and becomes us. Humanity calls them dark days. I call them**_ home__**.**_

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**AN**: **I appreciate the patience all of you seem to posses for I know that a year was far too long to have you all faithfully wait. I wish I could dazzle you all with an epic tale of being kidnapped in the dead of night only to escape a year later, or traveling the world as a circus performer, or even joining a band of pirates as we sailed the seven seas, yet sadly, I do not have any excuse of that caliber. Unfortunately, my grammar and spelling have ceased to improve during the time away so please forgive any mistakes you might find, especially considering that I composed most of this around one in the morning. If they are incredibly distracting or if they are insulting my intelligence in any way, as in a blind kindergartener could have conjugated that verb properly, then please politely inform me and I will attempt to eradicate such problems. I must apologize once more for I would have released this chapter some time ago yet I fear that I can be such a perfectionist that I am sure that it will be the death of me. Also, I would like to inform you all that this was a rather difficult chapter to construct considering all of the conflicting, raw emotion that's present in this. If you are baffled, or just curious, then please feel free to send me your questions and I will be more than delighted to attempt to answer them to the best of my ability. Without further ado, I present you with Godric and no I am not dangling him in front of your noses this time so you may all relax and enjoy. I even prolonged Godric's and Danny's meeting to fill the span of seven pages as a form of an apology and a bribery to win back all of your, the readers', favor.**

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Oh, if there was ever a sight to be seen it would be this. A boy of the ripe age of nineteen sat with his legs indifferently crossed over one another, as if in a perpetual accord despite his dejected environs being composed of the acrimonious silver that twisted and distorted itself into a silhouette of a cage. As it curved and fabricated itself into his inhospitable imprisonment, it fashioned another within our psyche yet it concealed itself in the form of a philosophical query that leaves us all brooding: is it meant to keep him in or others out? That is the question that tingles as the neurons discharge, kicking into overdrive to produce a desired answer.

He merely stared at me, cerulean rimmed with a cordial manifestation, a guise I am not entirely definite I have ever received. He seemed neither rapt nor perturbed by my presence. Instead, he merely lingered somewhere in its median, being just enough to ignite the smoldering flames of inquisitiveness that faintly singed the inert that rimed his cerulean irises. His gaze fixed upon mine with such deliberation that he appeared to be endeavoring to fathom me, as if unraveling the secrets suppressed within my soul with a simple passing of the eyes. A lock of auburn seceded from the others to respite across his brow in the placid sway of his movements. I could feel the fervor his gaze embraced me with as his eyes danced across the contours of my body, on a futile quest for instructions of some sort. He blinked once, an autonomic response that still entreats within him to embrace his humanity.

Despite comprehending that I have been dead for nearly two years, his gaze riled such an acute yet vastly overwhelming sensation of emotions that behaved as if it were discomfiture. I feared that the boy enlightened what enigmas I possessed in a mere matter of seconds when it has taken me years to ascertain them to be reluctantly undiscovered. He was a mere boy cradling the fine notion of something as final as adulthood yet his gaze mellifluously stipulated an audience and willed one into an existence if its inconvenience could be overshadowed with formalities and the compassionate nature of comprehension. It transformed to dust the ambiguity of time with a mere ephemeral of a gaze and I feared yet anticipated the same would come of me.

I felt an anomalous sense of nothing emanating from him that diverged from the vivid array of emotions so fluently felt from the others. No rancorous aroma of odium besmirched the air or ones of a poignant perfidy. He once possessed the ticklish sent of curiosity yet it evaporated within mere moments of my materialization. He truly appeared to be blasé in his surroundings, including me, as if their idiosyncrasy nature could simply not be alleviated and therefore should not be dwelled upon. I was irresolute if I should be acutely affronted by his lack of enthrallment or relieved that another round of insufferable questions was not currently bombarding me with their frivolous and misplaced inquisitiveness and conjecture for I possessed no answers within the insipid flesh I must deem mine.

Then, something crept wordlessly within the room, assiduously ascertaining each step with precision before taking me aback in surprise. It was the placid sound of a solacing yet dry chuckle that appeared to have been out of practice and had not meet the light of day in quite some time. What bemused me by the peculiar sound was that it was fashioned by the very tongue and lips possessed by a boy locked within a self inflicted imprisonment. They were accompanied by equally startling words that ignited my own suspicious nature. "I had expected them to have sent someone, but a ghost?" Another chortle escaped from the fine prison his lips fashioned, only to warm the air with thoughts of acceptance. "Well, even after two thousand years, it seems that I can still be surprised." His voice was mellifluous, ripples across a mid-summer's pond that instills a sense of peace and tranquility in those who witness such an occurrence. His age has ripened it, embellishing it with the subtle tone of wisdom that one can feel a grace of erudition enlightening in oneself just by listening. Oh, the treasures he must have seen, the places he must have lingered in, leaving traces of himself within the architecture, and the world wonders he must know, locked within the confinement of his contemplating mind. He possessed an astute tone yet a child's pair of pale eyes for they still shared within them the same vigorous and naïve spark of curiosity that caused him such tribulations long ago. However, dejection and melancholy were enthralling his concentration, beguiling him as they whispered abysmal words of a world on its knees that will eulogize his departure for he was the one to condemn for bringing it to such a brink. Soon there would be nothing left of his eyes expect for their depthless cerulean, clouded in veils of desolation and ambiguous irresolution. Yet, just this once he spoke with a modest smile, a trait that is unbeknownst to his kind as it mollified the perpetually pensive contours of his façade. It installed a sense of curiosity in me, a lingering taste of perplexity engulfed in an aroma of desire.

Despite his flaccid disposition, he frightened me so, as if he possessed an abhorrent secret that would cause us to abandon the humanity within ourselves and join him within the confinements of his incarceration. I feared of and for one such as him for he had convinced himself that an alternation of reality is the truth which thus caused him to forsake the very hope for his survival that most of us cling to. Nonetheless, this flagrant ignorance installed such feelings of immoderate incense within me that I was unaware that I had the capacity or the will to fashion and wield with such a tempered mind. The truth is yielding to neither man, vampire, or, unfortunately, ghost. With his immense years of acumen, he should not have taken such a fact for granted nor let it escalate to such a point of no return.

"You know what I am?" I replied, dithering within my response. Unlike his, my words fell flat upon the floor where they stayed in their own pools of incoherent babble and dribble, collecting and conspiring with one another, soon to be the kings among the peasants. Apprehensive, I was no longer, yet I was not shy away from being thoroughly enthralled by this boy consciously refusing such a gift of life as he sat locked within his own jungle of a cage, laced with silver and kissed by poison. There subsists a depraved darkness in him, an adverse pit of desolation that installed anguish and trepidation in those comprehensible enough to convey it with connotation. Despite the ever dwindling rational part of my brain beseeching me to run, I stood as still as time. I refused to believe such first impressions for how could such a smile be anything more than a glance into a placid soul? How could someone who possesses such a deferential, yet aloof smile be anything less than innocuous? If only I had known. If only I had known the secrets lingering just beyond those cerulean irises and the mendacity that tongue would wield. Those always appear to be the famous last words for any circumstances given such as this and in this particular instance they did not fail to appear.

Despite our emerging conversation, he remained static yet his gaze never ceased to leave mine. Unlike the others, his eyes did not blatantly declare nor demand dominance and in its place stood the intellectual inquisitiveness of a wise man that has reached a capacity beyond his physical years. However, with each passing second the enigma that is me leisurely unravels and diminishes his curiosity with every well conceived word. "I'm over two thousand years old. I have seen many of your kind." His tone fell back to its mindless melancholy upon being reminded of his age. Perfection wept upon the competition his speech created as if each word was hand crafted for his tongue to pronounce. He spoke an entirely new language and I feared miscommunication upon my part. He possess a rather disdainfully customary physical appearance, being fashioned by a pair of almond eyes transfixed with the naïve nature of a fresh tint of azure that rested above the thick lines of a plumb nose. It was all fixed within the contours that formed roughly a square frame which was naturally being accompanied by a soft yet predominate jaw line that cradled a pair of full lips. However, his voice possessed the will to transfix even the most mutinous listener into compliance for it was supple yet resolved as it caressed a calmed sense of structured confidence.

It only took a second for his interest to depart, catching the last flight out of this god forsaken conversation. And with its disappearance, his attentiveness drained from his very eyes, commanding others to follow as it left him to fade back to gray. My breath became caught within my own thoughts, silencing me upon seeing such a transformation. He was rendered blasé by my presence, disdainfully jaded and how quickly it arrived only continued to ignite my own feelings of curiosity.

How many others has he met? Surly he must know something about this state of existence. Surly he must hold the answers. The queries continued effortlessly, each one leaving its own mark upon my thoughts as it scratched the surface of my consciousness, forcing my attention. They collected into the center where the voices became magnified, each one shouting over the other, commemorating what the others has inquired by building upon their questions. I feared my head will never be silent again.

A spring of curiosity tangled within the saccharine sense of sanguinity spiraled throughout my being, lingering within the corners of my eyes and mouth as it ripened my existence. It dexterously pulled them towards the heavens as he awaited my response. I was dripping with anticipation and avid for the flow of tête-à-tête, yet my words appeared to have escaped me. There was so much to inquire and converse about, but where were the words? How could they possibly hide at such a time, searching for sanctuary I could not provide? They must have abandoned me in their collected trepidation of my knack for degradation. How astute of them.

As the lull of silence took root within my mind, a lone question remained to scorn me with its rationality. What if I was not pleased by what he has to tell me? This was the possibility that I had dared not ventured to. Nonetheless, my cowardice nature did not prevent it from being a form of realty. For years I have been consumed by the will to analyze, distinguish, and interpret my existence into a lone word or phrase that I could best deem it that did not pertain to nameless and the unknown. This overwhelming sense of desire bestowed upon me a hazy rationality at best that was hindered by the pessimistic consequences of reality. I have failed to ponder the possibility that I would not approve of what I am, or worse, that I was rendered incapable of altering it. Trepidation quickly entered my thoughts, providing me with another means to be silence.

Perhaps my sudden loss of speech provoked an ounce of commiseration within Godric for he took it upon himself to speak first, brandishing the apparent and encasing it in spoken words. "You seem surprised." Even such an austere avowal was brought to life by his accent, effortlessly leaping into the air is it tried to convey its veiled connotation. Despite his levels of attention never regaining their former composure, the lines that appeared to form his façade softened to complete a clement expression. From his demeanor I managed to deduce that he was anticipating my perplexity, as if his words were a complex entity that most were unable to absorb. What a young, boorish soul I must appear to him as.

A moment's worth of a pause wrapped itself around my mind where it exchanged thoughts for mechanical words. "It's just that I have never been this close to an answer before." I could feel the grin rise within me, bubbling as if consisting of carbonated water. Its saccharine words seduced my mouth into a warm curl as the gravity of the matter fully seized me, rendering me babbling in its presence. "Neither Bill nor Eric seem to know exactly what I am," I continued to add, feeling the expressed need to blather commence. Naturally I was flabbergasted to find myself in such comfort considering that I possess an obdurate closed door policy when pertaining to secrets and strangers. Regardless of my previous diffident nature, it would appear that I would be willing to tell this Godric anything. Secrets would have been unraveled and truths would have been marked red, all because within him lies an answer, a superlative reason to hope. No, not just an answer, the answer. Or at least a start to one.

He seemed to take no need in momentarily assimilating his response, as if he has rehearsed it for some time. With his age, he might have. "Eric was with me when we first made the discovery of your kind." The reverberations of his inane tone remained void of emotion, proclaiming no conceivable use for such inconsequential things. To him, he was merely stating facts. "Did he not tell you?" He inquired with words accompanied by dead eyes, deducing his conjecture to be accurate.

I have never anticipated such a belligerent frontal assail to be fashioned by the hands of Eric Northman. This revelation astounded me, rendering me into a state of impermanent speechlessness as I recoiled to the confinement of my mind where I ruminated this news of duplicity. I felt something within me crumble and I feared that it was the final strands of my sagacity for this was not an assault I could easily recuperate from. The indignation and ire rose within me next, effortlessly replacing all rationale and enforcing others to succumb to their preponderate will as it effortlessly filled the void within me with its acrimonious words and verdict.

"No, it must have slipped his mind." I permitted myself to speak indignantly, no longer succumbing to the desire to entertain such formalities. I have been growing despondent from such false pretenses for quite some time. Now marks the time for candor yet I feared that it must be deferred once more for dawn was vast approaching and my presence was still expected at Eric's side by the night's end.

It appears the vampire still possess some form of emotions, dwindling though they may be, yet he permitted his lips to curl upon the recognition of his child's blatant character, inferring that he had indeed resisted the strain of changing times. "It appears that he has not changed." His tone was serene as it rested upon a few predominate memories he once shared with his progeny.

"Apparently not." The hastened words were spoken before I had a comprehending of them. How truly dreadful speech can become without the patience of thought.

A second chuckle could be distinctly heard from him yet it appeared to have prompted an old war companion, sorrow. "I suppose I should be blamed for that." The brows that bordered the crest of his eyes trippingly pulled together in a movement of one as they came together to represent a furor induced by such a sensation of repentance that stung my very eyes and rendered me a bit more vacant in its wake. It possessed such a horrid taste of lives once forgone in order to compensate for choices that were relentlessly made.

"Not entirely," I choose to reason in order to better illuminate the veracity that lurked in the shadows of his mind that brandished the clout to dispel such repellent feelings of regret. "Eric will be Eric, regardless of who he's with or influenced by." I dismissed the notion with a mere wave of my hand, never fully comprehending its power. It seemed to settle our dispute but it created a void for the gauche silence to fill. It tip-toed across the room, diffident as it contemplated which tile to land upon. Should it be the gray or the beige? Decisions, decisions.

"Would you like me to tell you," he inquired with such comatose eyes, "what you are?"

There was no delay in my response. "Yes." However, it was hastily veiled by the dithering of disorder, layered thick with perfidy and the ever dwindling notion of time. "But later," I added, unsure if my mind was willing to embrace any further information tonight. Despite my lustful longing for such an answer, I realized that there was too much duplicity in the air in order for me to comprehend what words he had to offer. I wanted nothing more than to finally discern and possess a word that I may declare that I belong to, alas, that was not the reason as to why I was sent here. A task must be completed.

"There is not much of later left." Despite his life diminishing down to its irrevocable days, he still held no emotional imbalance. There appeared to be no tip of the scales and I am not entirely sure how to properly voice how that vexed me immensely. Had he embarked so long without them that he disregarded the gentle grace of what emotions felt like? I could feel the benevolent humanity that was behind his eyes. If only he would set it free. Yet he kept it caged much like himself. Perhaps this is what they refer to as pity. It was such a peculiar sensation for it bestowed upon the owner such a mistakable sense of clarity that hypocritically narrowed one's judgment.

"Right," I remembered with a sharp intake of breath, despite possessing no need for such a trifling thing. My gaze traveled to the floor as it proceeded to form patterns out of the tiles while my mind was lost somewhere in wonderland, attempting to place reason and sense behind other's actions out of such an uncanny need for comprehension. The aversion I felt was indescribable and it tested the very fiber of my ethics like none other yet it was casted in the shadows by the despondency that overtook it for I knew that I had placed my trust in a person that should receive nothing more from me than a final word of departure. I could feel my mind beginning to numb from recent enlightening truths and for once, I did not seem to mind.

Silence struck again, making spectacles out of us and ridiculing my sudden incompetence. His apathy stung the very corners of my eyes, as if they were tears waiting to be released. It was at that moment that something else caved within me. I wished to save him, but not from this institution. No, I wished to save him from a greater enemy; himself. The world was vile, obstinate, and apparently filled with manipulative people incapable of telling the truth. It possessed such a retched way of breaking spirits and transforming men into monsters yet knowing all of this and falling victim to it does not mean that one must rest on the idea of an end. A sigh made heavy by my contemplation escaped from my lips in response to my epiphany. I must conclude that they are not always welcomed experiences, especially when they complicated things so.

"Something is troubling you?" It failed to possess the subtle intimation of an inquisition but the expecting pause after his avowal led me to deduce that a response was in order. Despite the subtle apprehension that wielded his words and forged them into existence, he managed not to permit it to show in his inert features.

"Many things," I agreed, admitting that I possessed a heavy heart that was overshadowed for once by a mind that was unfortunately assessing my own qualms. Nonetheless, I possessed an expressed need to voice a preconceived statement, one fashioned upon my immediate arrival. "First, you are a bit shorter than I was anticipating."

"I apologize if I have disappointed you. Might I add that you are a bit more dead than what I was expecting?" By the startlingly lack of baneful acrimony that rang in his tone, it was quite evident that he did not fashion such words as an insult but merely as an expressed observation meant as a jest.

"Touché." I responded with the grace of a faint smile curling the corners of my lips, pleased to have induced such a response in him. Unfortunately it did not remain for long for it lamentably brought me to my second concern, one that I was considerably more trepid in presenting. I could feel the beam wither away as I prepared my mouth for such a grave question. "The second being: why did you offer yourself to the Fellowship of the Sun to be their sacrifice?" The word felt foreign upon my tongue for I never believed it to be capable of existing in the same sentence with such a reference to God, one who is parallel to clemency and such expressed feelings of ardor.

Yet again no emotion was honored by the prestige of painting his façade with their grace, amending and bending his features into the frame they desired. Despite the silence that encompassed us and the solemnity of the situation, he remained adamant, a fraction of silence I was never particularly fond of. It was as if his silence was an indication that he awaited such a conclusion to be brought to life by my tongue.

"Is it because you are looking for punishment?" I continued to press, believing to comprehend his reasons yet feeling the coveter for them to be brought to light by his lips and not mine. It would be gentler that way.

"I have done many things in my life that I am now ashamed of. In two days I will atone for my sins." His words were spoken with a sense of earnestly that was only magnified by his once vacant expression being encompassed by ones of sorrow and compunction as they broaden his face with their emotional turmoil and rendered his gaze to fall for it was never easy to admit one's mistakes.

It was unexplainable, the umbrage I felt coursing through me. It clashed drastically with his mournful repentance, a livid scarlet and a deep indigo intertwined only to produce an undesirable and incomprehensible grey. My entire time here I have been consumed with the inspiring deliberation of being returned to normal and becoming living once more, no longer existing in the thought of mankind as some lucent entity that seemingly defies all attempts of delineation. And here he stands, wishing to throw his life away over the very black that scorches itself into an unyielding existence incapable of eradication yet lingering in the possibility of succumbing to a lesser degree through its consistency of eternal lessons and wisdom. To end his life because he had the nerve to live; how bitterly ironic. The mere thought of it was capable of making me experience the tingling sensation of ire as it numbed my nerves and possibly my ability of rational thinking.

"Why wait? Why not meet the sun now?" Anger manipulated my words, forming ill begotten sentiments that were surly encompassed by consequences as it tainted my words with tactlessness. Regrettably, it was no longer me talking, it was the malice.

The response startled him into a single expression of emotion, flummox. His gaze fell upon mine once more, eyes not daring to break their hold, not daring to keep himself from discerning me. If only he knew that I am quite simple. He is the one who is complex, dangling on a string of fate and wishing to cute it with his own will. What bold faced audacity. What inanity.

My analysis was far from over and he appeared to instinctively comprehend for he remained silent, permitting my scrutiny to continue. "You are afraid," I mused, my diagnoses clinging tenderly to my lips as it hesitantly approached the freedom it was presented with as if testing tepid waters in such an earnest way. "You are afraid just like everyone else that you are not good enough to die. You have deluded yourself into thinking that you do not deserve a quick end or even a heaven or a hell so you have decided to prolong it for as long as possible as retribution, waiting until someone is able to end your life for you and provide it with a denotation. You have even locked yourself in a cage, far away from reason." Each word was spoken leisurely, accentuating the severity of the situation in its gentle pause all in hope that it would be enough to contain his concentration.

His lips remained resolutely pressed to one another; forming a thin line that prevented any and all stray opinions from being voiced and falling from his tongue in the insubordinate nature concealed things often take. The surprise that once filled itself into the contours of his adolescent face and shaped it into something recognizably human vanished, leaving only the face of a boy once capable of serenity and absolution behind. Nothing collected within the irises of his eyes, returning them to their original lackluster shade of grey. He was dead. He had died long before my words of warning flooded (encompassed?) his ears. All that remained were his eyes, remote and listless as they glanced at me with such a gaze that made me nearly feel human. He was no longer looking past me or though me, but at me. Right at me. And I could feel everything in the sense that it was nothing.

Our presence was graced with yet another discomfited silence that pressed itself upon us in such a contemplating matter as it filled the very corners of our dialogue. His gaze lowered from mine, no longer wishing to acknowledge my presence for he had abandoned such rational thinking years before my existence. Instead, they followed the lines in the floor, forming patterns that consisted of their criss-cross nature; a tell for deliberation.

"And I know that I am in no position to say any of this, but I am sure that whatever this is," my gaze rested upon the frame of iron bars adorned with silver locks with a notable hint of commiseration before returning to the grey that awaited me within his irises, "punishment or not, it cannot be the answer."

"It is the only one that I have." His words were reticent, marked lucid by the void of hope his tone possessed. Despite being fashioned as a form of pity or not, it was the veracity he wished to cling to.

I was incapable of answering him, to fabricate some twisted reality by hopes and dreams that would render this all to be an error due to miscommunication. I was unable to produce the rainbows and sunshine of a propaganda that would blind him long enough to forget the dark that tainted his world. He would remain deplorably in this cage, but I would return. I would cross the universe if I had to, all because he knew. But it was something more than that. Regardless of how rash his suicidal penchants might be, I trusted the blatant fool. There was some inexplicable aspect contained within the color of decay in his irises that made me feel so. He is my answer and for now I must be his.

"The sun is rising. I have to go," I concluded, risking a final glance to find that the notion of my presence did not appeal to him and that he was prepared to dismiss my presence with an indifferent glance some time upon my arrival. Before I committed to my expressed departure, I lingered in the doorway, wishing for the will and perhaps the audacity to say one last thing. "They will come for you, regardless of where your will lies. They will be here with all the force in the world. And they will be here for you. Most people would be grateful, yet, I suppose you are simply used to it."

I departed to the sight of the lines that adorned his façade expressing no indications of acknowledgment, simply drawn together to further complete the frame which held his languorous glance that was not meant to express a supercilious tone of insolence. He was, in every sense of the word, dead.

* * *

I aimlessly meandered through the church's hallways a bit longer, prolonging my residence as I was consumed with the sudden desire to feel the grace of God on my fingertips. In truth, I wanted to feel anything, anything except the perplexity that kept nagging and gnawing at the back of my mind. I kept it at bay by wandering the halls and contemplating this droll idiom of religion. Even then, it still remained, like a whisper of a secret that burns your ears but you refuse any preconception of it ceasing. I must continue to listen because the very fabric of my being is at risk.

The concept of praying, asking for guidance or for forgiveness, whichever comes first traversed my mind, tantalizing it with such a pining desire to belong to something greater. The thought made me laugh. It was clear that for once in my existence I must do this alone.

In a bemused daze, I walked the streets of Dallas, searching for no place in particular, just a place to feel at home, wherever or whatever that may be. I saw the sun rise over buildings, bantering with them with such repartee as if declaring "you inane things, you can never be as high as me." All this glass, all this steel. They do not serve their intention. They do not protect us. We believed nature to be the adversary, instead it is man. Humans inflict upon others pain as if it is all they can construct and buildings, man's imprudent notion of sanctuary, only lock us in with the beast.

I have never felt so torpid, such a fraction of myself. It tasted of frost, arctic and desolate as if that were all I was permitted to be, a fading memory of the past left to melt by the heat of the day. I have been seeking this answer for almost two years now only to find it was in my grasp this entire time, mendacious, conniving, and assimilating its reprisal. A soft, breathless chortle pushed passed my lips almost effortlessly and it spoke words of sanity to the insane.

Fucking Eric!

We always were separate pages in the same book, contending for the concentration of the readers. Yet it appeared that I was misplaced somewhere in the beginning and he was father near the end, closer to comprehending the culprit who eradicated the millionaire's wife.

I reprimanded myself with phrases such as "I should have known" and "my God, you are such an idiot, this is Eric after all." I wanted to scream, to revel in the sound of my exasperation being transcribed into sound, but with my voice incapable of being heard, why should I waste the effort? I yearned for everything in my sight to disintegrate into nothingness, the saccharine abyss of unadulterated white. At least the nothingness has never deceived me, manipulating me into such a derision of a fraction. I wished I could be immersed by it, without thoughts and cares, they only hold us to these irritants known as people.

But, fucking Eric! It was the thought that would not be restrained, categorized, and filed away like the others. As if made of diamonds, it craved the light and became illuminating with such vindictive clarity.

I continued pacing down the roads, striving to pass inexorably unremitting through pedestrians whose lips were currently seized in a curl of a smile for it was such an imprudent gesture of delight that would forever be unobtainable. If I was not content, then why should they be granted with such a privilege? Had I not obeyed every rule? Had I not endeavored to play fair? The ire and the exasperation, oh yes the exasperation, they all burned biter holes within me as they lapsed at my throat, conquering and tainting all within its grasp with a scornful hue of scarlet that never ceased to captivate my breath and deem it its prisoner. The two relentlessly intertwined, collapsing upon one another in a intoxicated pursuit for dominance until it was made one, one contemptuous entity that burned my throat as it effortlessly slid past my tongue, raging and ripping apart my esophagus as if it were nothing.

Nothing. That's what I wish Eric to be; nothing.

"Damn," I swore aloud. "Fuck," I swore aloud again, reveling in how sensational it felt. The words tasted forbiddingly saccharine as they fell from my lips and tarnished the air once more with vulgar profanities. Indulging, I started repeating every word that I have heard, every ill conceived phrase that should have never met the light of day. For too long I have been ensnared in my own silence, caged by this stubborn and ever pressing quietness that hindered my knowledge. As if my existence would fully cease if my words were no longer able to be heard. Now I am being pressed into a confined corner of that cage and it is time for me to make my escape. It is time for me to fight for what is mine and take it back without giving a damn.

If this is what insanity felt like, I could become passively habituated to it. It came effortlessly as if my mind had been waiting for this final snap of sanity all along. I welcomed it with open arms and it greeted me as if it were an old friend. And its embrace was pleasurably warm.

"Your wife is cheating on you with your brother!" I bellowed to a trepid man who hid behind a pair of thick rimmed glasses as if wishing to conceal himself from a world that frightened him so. As he blundered across the streets of Dallas in a punctual haste, he fumbled with his briefcase as he went, seeking reassurance in its dexterous craftsmanship. He neither stopped to head my words nor expressed any sign of hearing them. He continued to walk, ecstatically oblivious of the infidelities that surrounded him.

My attention was averted to the next one and then the next, implementing a vile configuration of broken spirits fashioned by questioned morals and the dismay this world only has to proffer. It appears that one existed with every way that I turned and could possibly contort my existence as if the world was presenting me with a perpetual means of travesty and derided nature, encouraging the blinding ordeal we must all endure.

My indignant gaze rested upon the sight of a young boy, the very painted image of naivety and a child's virtue, being wrenched by his mother across an unyielding street. He bestowed upon his mother a smile compelled by innocence for he mistook her brash nature for a bemusing game. "Your mother . . ." I began but promptly lost myself to the embittered feeling of mournful tears that contorted my disdainful words to incoherent sobs. "Your mother does not want you," I managed to conclude in a murmur before my hand fled to my insubordinate lips, visibly and rightfully appalled as it wished to prevent any more resentful words from escaping. The pain the tears induced only heightened as they ventured towards the abyss of freedom, ever as translucent as my skin as they fell to the ground to never be seen again. No longer wishing to be in control of my actions, I felt my body descend to the ground as I collapsed within my lamentation, wishing to be amongst the very low for indeed that was what I was. I knew that this was not the person that I wanted to be and for that I cried.

* * *

_Can you not hear me? Can you not hear the tears that I shed, their departure of the word echoing the sounds of sorrow held within me as they collide bitterly with the ground? I stand here crying tears for you. Tears that you will never be able to hear. Where does your justice lie now? Where sleeps your heartfelt hope?_

* * *

I was consumed with the sudden yet peculiarly pleasant desire to lie to him in the same fashion he did to me. It entertained such a ticklish notion upon my tongue that entreated it to compose perjury. The thought dissipated as quickly as it arrived for I banished such immoral actions from my mind, knowing that I did not possess the will to complete such treachery beyond my imagination. In addition, Eric will forever be marked by the blaze of vengeance and I for one could only assume that it would please him some devilish way that my grasp on my moralities was far from firm. I refused to divert him with such an atrocious preconception. Regardless of my true intensions, one of us must be the bigger person. I assumed it would have been Eric but I suppose actual stature no longer should be taken into consideration.

I was greeted with an altercation; one that appears to becoming the status quo. Soon there will be no need for peace considering that no one will remember its purpose let alone how to properly define such a diminishing moral word. Soon we shall all resort to barbarism with Eric, none the less, leading the revolution with one shattered item and malicious phrase encased in a wrath of ferocity at a time.

My thoughts were breached with the sound of pottery breaking into pieces upon making contact with a callous wall. Such a dire sound one makes when being broken, as if a final cry for mercy it knows it will never receive.

The war commenced with Eric spilling the first blood with his vile actions and words. "Idiots," was the first comprehensible word that fell from his tongue as the syllables amalgamated together in a rancorous yell, a direct result of neither of them being annunciated properly. His arm contracted back to his side gradually as if being weighed down with his verdict. He faced the accused in a blinded ire as his words fell free and blemished the white room and the once chaste ambiance it possessed. Now it was black, an adversely lackluster and intolerant hue.

"Uncalled for," I retorted as my gaze readily fell upon the dusted verdant fragments of a vase that shall never be whole once more. The words sounded mechanical, as if becoming routine. I feared that Eric possessed the perceptiveness to see past my disengaged demeanor to the resentment branded by his name that dwelled within, just beneath this exterior of subsidiary orders, and if he refused such insight, then Bill will be sure to follow. Yet, Eric merely sneered at my presence, lips pulled back to exposed fangs that glistened in the florescent lighting. The only expression Bill choice to bestow upon me was one of brows furrowed in a perilous premonition that a lecture about wandering off will encompass my future.

All eyes averted to mine with inquisitive intensions, minds weighed quizzically with the possibilities my arrival would induce. I remained ignorantly irresolute if I would be able to withstand their forthcoming gazes of zeal laced with trepidation. I was past the verge of breaking yet they remained delightfully unaware. I believe irony could be used to describe the sense of clarity one's anger bestowed upon him or her in such a riled state of time. It was certainly peculiar how lucid everything appeared as I came to terms with temporarily losing my sanity if not permanently.

"You're late." The first words he choose to address me with where more adverse than appreciated yet I merely apologized for my belatedness in an impassive tone, not particularly engrossed in such trifling means to a conversation. I suppose now I was capable of empathizing with Godric for this all appeared appalling mundane.

The interrogation commenced, fashioned first by simple queries phrased with a conventional curiosity then preceding to rest upon ones of a momentous matter filled with such blinding emotions of partiality that enlightened each one that it crafted into existence. "Where is he?" Eric managed to enclose his anger into the frame of a growl yet from the deep, impending tone it wielded, I deduced that others were prone to follow.

I chose to indulge my mind by pondering upon the notion of a sardonic comment, one already lingering upon the tip of my tongue due to my blatantly mordant nature, yet I chose to not entertain it when taking into consideration Eric's disposition and my own. He was in no place to appreciate fine humor and I, for once, was in no mood to create it nor being the recipient of the callous consequences that would surly follow its deadpanned grace upon the already rigid atmosphere. Instead, I replied simply with the truth, something I would appreciate in return. "He's in the basement of the church."

"Who the hell are you?" A rugged man with such sharp contours fashioning his disparaging facade inquired ever so civilly. With a sneer that transfixed the thin lines of his lips, it became overly apparent that he was not one to dwell upon formalities. His eyes were dead long before his heart and they only seemed to ignite and flame upon the burning fumes of chaos and eradication. I believed his name to be Stan for he surly possessed the rigid demeanor of a Stan. He was a rather lupine man, brash and fitted with a sharp tongue. He possessed the uncanny and callous mien any lieutenant is obligated of, yet Stan proved to be rather ostentatious and often accomplished malicious gestures in order to raise his contradicting level of holistic apathy. I failed to see any form of an enigma lingering within his well built frame that consisted more of firm lines that ran jagged into one another. It was quite clear that his intensions rested solely upon one item and that was blood. He was marked by the idle hand of vengeance and as a result craved it as if it were a life support.

This staggering disparity in characteristic between sheriff and lieutenant raised a peculiar question that prickled the corners of my mind, unremittingly gnawing at the back of it as if it were white noise that never ceased to fade away. How could one such as Godric encompass himself with one as implacable and spiteful as Stan as well as Eric?

Despite his impetuous civility, the discussion refused to yield to his voice. "Are you sure?" Eric continued to beleaguer, a rather disdainful character flaw. However, I suppose it would be proven to be rather difficult to rape and pillage with a nurturing nature.

"Yes." I deliberated upon informing him of the topics we conversed over yet I thought it best to withhold them until a more confidential moment arrived.

"You expect us to trust some kid, Eric? You must have lost your fucking mind." This ever so amiable Stan drawled, noting my lack of menacing attire with a scrutinizing glance that encompassed my entire frame. Perhaps it was the worn out sneakers that instigated him to proclaim such a notion of supremacy. "How old are you anyways girl?"

"I fail to see where that is relevant." Under normal circumstances I would not have behaved with such riled intentions. Regardless, I now had Eric to thank for the sudden dwindling of my temper. It appeared that any deviance in the matter at hand placed an extraneous amount of strain on both Eric and me. How bitterly ironic.

"Forgive her, she is not fond of straight forward answers," Bill reasoned, attempting to ease my sudden insubordination with a judicious smile adorned with benign words. He was quite good yet I feared that he would never reach Eric's par for Eric did possess a thousand years worth of practice in deception, manipulation, and exploitation.

"She's not fond of answers at all," Eric scoffed as he rested his hands upon a table, fervently awaiting a confrontation for he never was one to decline what he mistook for as fun.

Unable to endure the discomfited silence that settled itself into the folds and breaks of the conversation, unearthing a domicile amongst the tongue tied and those who wished to conceal their true intensions, Isabelle decided to be the one responsible for directing the conversation to a more prospers conclusion. "What is our next move?" She inquired with an accent that crafted words of its own, appearing jaded by the insufferable arguing that has been placed so benevolently on her door step. It was quite clear that she possessed a nurturing nature yet she attempted to conceal it with brute force in order to be not made a mockery out of by her malevolent colleagues. It was all quite poignant how some suffered from the effects of peer pressure even at such an age.

After a moment's worth of contemplation, for he needed it to appear that it was on a caprice and not rehearsed, Eric answered much to my dissent. "If there's a traitor in our mist then we need to plant one in there's." The once rigid and predominate lines that accompanied his furry smoothed to complete one of apathy, the calm before the storm. This transformation rendered his tone monotone as if declaring the trifling and evident.

"But Eric, that is-" I attempted to rationalize before I was silenced by another one of his pursuits for authority and complete supremacy.

"Do not disobey a direct order!" His fangs extended as if to annunciate the brutality of his words. They would hold my tongue for now, yet he should know better than to publicly humiliate me so. Instead of replying with repugnant words that would only fall on deaf ears, I instead decided to grant his wish for silence. I would relish watching the world surrounding him crumble as he lost all that he claimed valuable all due to his tenacity in being incapable of heading my warning.

A chuckle fell from Stan's lips, a vile sound that commanded attention. "We could drink them all," he mused, proposing war with a glimmer that captivated the rigged onyx in his side ways glance to Eric. His lids fell heavy upon his eyes in noting the rebuff that tainted the room and decided to remove himself from it before they were granted the opportunity of removing him. "I want no part in this," Stan brooded as he sauntered out, making it quite apparent that he refused to be ignored. He always possessed that particular flair for imposing exits. It did not fail him even now. Even I wished to pursue him, rid my hands of the matter as well yet I was compelled to stay, a certain adherence that I have always found myself questioning.

"I'll go," Sookie finally established her voice on the matter, much to the exasperation of one Bill Compton. Despite the censorious grace his brows seemed to furrow with, Sookie insisted that she offered her services to the collaboration. Naturally it was all in vain for how do you rescue a boy who does not wish to be rescued? Nevertheless, Sookie appeared earnest in her ardent attempt to be of service as the tips of her fingers traced the hem of her conspicuously southern scarlet dress, consumed by the subconscious need of approval.

I could practically taste the alternation in atmosphere that now deranged the room. It became lush with disparate emotions of trepidation and acquiescence, struggling for dominance in a brawl of palette inducing nausea.

"It will be too dangerous," Bill attempted to dispute yet it was apparent that Sookie had made up her mind and once she finally decided on something, she did not simply change it in order to comply with the will of her surroundings, regardless of how irresistible she found them to be. She followed through with the best of intensions illuminating the smile that hung respectfully upon her lips for she was quite the optimistic.

Bill, on the other end of the spectrum, was fond of pessimism at times and in this particular instance, he could not claim to be elated with the notion of his lover being placed in such a precarious position. Despite the remonstration that could be seen lapsing within the soft spun amber of his irises that implored Sookie to consider his rationality, he was depicted as silent by the democratic process of three being the majority over two. Instead, he settled for expressing his apprehension with censorious glances filled to the brim of its capacity with acrimonious repugnance at Eric that surly meant that a conversation between the two was likely to stir at some time. Eric simply awaited the challenge, pleased to have riled his opponent so effortlessly.

Her temper dispersed from the sudden turn to rationality the conversation pursued, Isabelle was only left with a perturbed sensation induced by a looming premonition of dismay. It was rather uncharacteristic of her to express such gestures of apprehension, but being the most sympathetic of her present species, she feared for Sookie's survival in such an institution that was known for its lack of trust when a woman is peculiarly absent a man. Therefore, she decided to offer her own distinct form of help, volunteering her boyfriend. "Hugo can assist you," she declared with a faint smile that softened her features in an attempt to be courteous and hospitable for it was not in her intensions for her guests to think ill of her.

No curl of consent tainted Eric's lips, yet from his feint lack of expression as well as his absent protest to Sookie's imprudent attempt of espionage, I comprehended that this was his plan. He intended for Sookie to be used merely as a pawn to gain entrance to the Fellowship of the Sun's organization which is why the invitation to Dallas was extended to her. Eric could not present her with the proposition for she would surly demur it which left him with the option to shrewdly thrust her into the course of volunteering, monopolizing her benevolent nature.

The group dispersed after diffidently endorsing an arrangement of assault. All instead of Eric and I as I lingered in the room, wishing to confront him and force him to see the light of rationale instead of the shadows of refutation he preferred to lurk in.

"You cold hearted bastard," I acknowledged which lucratively acquired the attention of one Eric Northman for he fit a gaze upon me that I was sure blazed like the depths of hell. His lips began to part, prepared to form a negation yet I refused to cede it to him this premature in the quarrel. "This was your plan all along, wasn't it? This is not right."

His lips parted once more yet instead of presenting me with well crafted words, it only curled back upon itself to embellish his fangs as his rejoinder. The distinct click of them being exposed once more was heard and Eric flourished the movement as an expressed abhorrence towards my declaration, apparently adamant about his ethics. "Do not tell me what is wrong and right, little girl!"

"You don't get to be pissed. I get to be pissed!" My tone appeared to rise on its own accord, falling upon an antagonistic strength I never knew I possessed in times of such acerbic treachery. "You lied to me. After all this time you made me believe that you knew nothing. Why? So you could continue to exploit me for your own personal gain?" My tone mitigated, no longer wishing to express such captivated enmity and in its place stood the muffled cries of a pleading girl attempting to comprehend the injustices that tainted her life. I felt the lines that fashioned my eyes being pulled as they became weighted by my entreaties, bringing the contours that framed my face with it.

"You don't get to question my authority. You only get to obey!" The octaves transfixed within his tone precariously lowered as his voice began to rise, decreeing subordination from its spectators. His gaze hastily inspected the space separating us, seeking another object to cast away his provocations with, preferably pottery.

"This is my life we are talking about, Eric. A life that for two years now I did not know how to define. And you knew. You knew all along and did not tell me. You have no idea what that feels like. How am I supposed to trust you?"

"You don't need to trust me. You're only purpose now is to find Godric."

"You weren't there Eric!" My tone rose once more, compelling the ignorance in him to head my admonition which I feared remained to fall upon deaf ears. "You didn't feel it. And now you're sending Sookie in where you know she will get-"

"You will accompany Sookie tomorrow when she infiltrates the Fellowship of the Sun and there will be no further discussion upon the matter." His words were no longer intertwined with the fervor that once consumed him. Instead, they were presented with an air of formal decorum that spoke of aloof commerce and not of life. His fangs were soon retracted, truly indicating the end of our conversion as he awaited my departure with a daunting glance transfixing the cold azure in his irises to a livid verdant.

"Of course. What could possibly go wrong?"

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**AN: Thus concludes the awkward meeting of Danny and the one deemed Godric. Now before I get a massive amount of angry reviews attempting to correct me, I purposely altered Godric's physical age to nineteen. I know that it is listed in countless sights that he was transformed at the age of sixteen yet I felt that this was a bit too young and I did not want my character to be robbing the cradle so to speak. I apologize if this upsets anyone but I have my reasons that will be illuminated in later chapters. Other than that, I hoped that you all enjoyed it and please feel free to review and add any personal questions, thoughts, opinions, ideas, or constructive criticism. I love hearing from you all and it puts a smile on my face! I thank all of you who took the time out of your day to favorite this or add it to your alerts and I offer a very special thanks to those who have reviewed this story so far.**

**I Am Tired Of Looking: Thank you so much for your kind words! I really appreciate them and I hope that you will continue to like this story. I am glad to hear that I build anticipation because that is one of the main goals that I have been aiming for in the beginning. What fun is it if I reveal all of the secrets in the beginning anyway? I like to make my readers work for it and through in some cliff hangers when the time is appropriate. Anyways, I am more than delighted to hear that you think I have obtained it! Hopefully this chapter did not disappoint you. I will attempt to update regularly yet inspiration and time is hard to come by. However, it is always inspiring to hear reviews such as yours. **

**IceyBlueEyes: Please don't be mad at me! I dedicated a whole section to Godric this time and there was even some dialogue so I hope that pleased your cravings. I am thrilled to hear that you are on the edge of your seat but please don't fall off! I would just like to add that you are the type of reader that makes this worthwhile. I always enjoy hearing from you and I hope that you enjoyed this chapter despite the long wait. **

**Franky Sanchez 125: I am pleased to hear someone commented about detail. I attempt to incorporate it into my stories the best that I can because I want the reader to feel as if he or she was there experiencing the same thing my characters are. There is a reason as to why Danny's thoughts are so expressive and formal and it, like everything else, will be revealed with time. I am not familiar with ****Willa Cather but I will have to look into her. Despite my lack of knowledge on her, I am honored to be compared to such a writer. I apologize if the detail is too much at times and that is because I am horrible at deleting things. I suppose this makes me a word hoarder so to speak, but sometimes I just cannot bring myself to delete something. I attempted to be better in this chapter yet I fear that I have failed. As far as the grammar is concerned, I know that it can be horrible and for that I apologize as well. I do not have a Beta but if you or anyone else could provide me with a name of one then I would be most grateful. ****Thank you for your compliments and criticism and I encourage you to keep reading, reviewing, and adding constructive criticism. It was lovely to hear from you.**

**EvilPurpleCookiePenkeyMonguin: Why thank you! I am pleased to hear that you enjoyed it and that you would love to read the next chapter. I hope you enjoyed this one as much as you did the last. I am dreadfully sorry to have forced you to wait for such a long time but I hope that the wait was worth it. I would also like to thank you for your multiple reviews. I hope to keep you hooked and I encourage you to keep reading and reviewing!**

**kingdomfantsyanime453: I very much appreciate your comment! I hope that you found this chapter interesting as well and I hope that the rest of this story will never lose your interest. I would like to personally apologize for the wait and I will attempt to not keep you and the others waiting for such a long time next time. Please never be shy to tell me what you think. **

**LumiIrene: I would like to publicly dismiss such a notion of abandonment right now. I have not purposely left this story to be unfinished especially only five chapters into the beginning. I appreciate your concern and I hope that it would please you to hear that I have great plans for this story. I have spent the past several months constructing a detail outline for it and I now comprehend the direction I want this story to take. I can only hope that you and everyone else would be pleased with the plot line that I have chosen. I even have thoughts for a sequel! If I ever reach the end of this one I will be more than pleased to publish it as well. I am thrilled to hear that you have taken an interest in the plot and Danny and I will let you in on a secret; Danny likes you too. I seriously cannot prevent myself from smiling because of your review! I am very appreciative of your kind words and I am thrilled to see that you find this story original and my writing style poetic because these are two of the things that I strive to reach. I am honored that you would read my story even though it is not in your native language and I do apologize for its complications. If you ever have questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to voice them. I will answer all that I can to the best of my ability. I have to admit that I was a bit disappointed that I had only received nine reviews, despite them all being from loyal readers, but then I get one such as yours and it makes me feel immensely better. Once again I am completely flattered by your words and I encourage you to keep reading and voicing your opinions. I do believe that this is one of the longest responses that I have written. I apologize if I have bored you but what can I say; I am ecstatic to hear from you!**

**And to those of you who added me as one of their favorite authors, you are all too kind! **

**Oh my, whatever is that down there? I dare say that it is a review button! Perhaps you should click it for old time's sake? I hear that they can be quite rewarding.**


	7. Chapter Six: Things Fall Apart

**Pieces of Me**

Chapter Six:

_Things Fall Apart_

**Man quakes from the fabrications he creates. Yet, it is not the vile thoughts that he fears, it is the ease with which he thinks **_them_**.**

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**AN: Thank you all for reading the last chapter and special thanks to those of you who added this story and selected it as one of your favorites. Another special thanks goes to EvilPurpleCookiePenkeyMonguin and Regin for reviewing. A thousand times thank you to you all, especially to those of you who actually read these author's notes. I love writing Pieces of Me and I am truly thrilled that there are lovely readers such as yourselves who enjoy reading it.**

**For the past couple of chapters, and by couple I mean all, I have neglected to add a disclaimer in my author's note. Thus, I believe it is due time for me to incorporate it because I am a broke college kid who does not wish to de sued.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own True Blood, the delectable series created by Allan Ball that is based on Charline Harris's Southern Vampire Mystery novels. So please do not sue me for you will be terribly disappointed considering I only have eight dollars in my bank account. However, I do own Danny and any other original characters and plot ideas. With that said, please do not steal them from me because they are all that I have, along with the eight dollars.**

**As always, I apologize for the wait and my excuse still stands as being a procrastinating college student who gets distracted fairly easy by shiny objects. Once again I have merged two chapters together in order to appease all of you patient readers. Please enjoy!**

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"I told you not to trust Hugo," I castigated Sookie as she sat cross legged in a cell, glowering with derision transfixing the azure in her eyes to a vivid verdant at the space she assumed I was occupying. An odious sensation stirred from his charisma that transpired at first glance in the hotel lobby. It was a foreboding niggling of the conscious that repudiated the null; a feral mauve for it was the hue of arrogance. He was impressionable, acquiescent just as the rest yet he will never be what he depicts himself as, never attaining what is in his heart for his mind believed to be superior and thus clouded the rest. He will remain a shadow of his true self, something made to twist to his vice, something the enlightened will pity and the crestfallen will ridicule. He was the conspirator and now my qualms were confirmed as they both sat incarcerated because of his blatant trust issues and superiority complex.

Hugo apprehensively paced the confinements of his cells, stepping rigidly for their iron spoke callously of him as he tested this new limited confinement. He was not jubilant by what filled his line of vision. The frigid disposition of iron froze his very heart with notions of seclusion and severance. It was apparent that he did not foresee this predicament to surface and ruin his Friday evening's plans.

"Nobody likes a smart-aleck, Danny," Sookie retorted in an adolescent manner that rendered her wistful for the old days. She busied herself by permitting her fingers to trace the hem of her dress, silently counting the stitching in order to keep her nerves at bay by something constant, something the chaos in this world could ever reach and make perish. Soon the act grew too aired and cyclical for her so she settled for rummaging about her imprisonment, inspecting her surroundings with every sense she possessed.

"Great," Hugo carped to himself as his fingers compulsorily compelled the knot of his tie to loosen, consenting him to breathe the air he feared was evading him. A touch of claustrophobia besmirched him, a lone swirl of indigo amongst a sea of fretful emerald that appeared oddly forlorn. "I'm locked in a cell in a church's basement with a lunatic who talks to her imaginary friend." His diction dithered, wavering upon certain syllables due to his trepidation. He was close to losing everything he once deemed valuable and these iron bars compelled him to apprehend this calamitous veracity. He saw his narrative depicted upon each one, broken fragments that reminded him of just how far he has fallen. He loathed them with an ire that blazed a gaudy crimson as it scorched my own throat, pursuing its next casualty as it slithered with blood swathed hands across the floor.

"For the hundredth time, Hugo, she's a ghost," Sookie avowed with lexis incapable of fully expressing her level of vexation. Not exultant by its insufficient representation, it continued to subsist through other means as she began to callously toss about the objects in her sight. "And we wouldn't even be in this mess if it weren't for you," she felt the inclination to castigate as her mind held firm on its grasp of ethics with a twinge of brown noising.

I have beheld many of his kind, the unbelievers. Their comprehension is limited only to their sight, for reality to them is only what you perceive it to be. "Do not waste your breath Sookie. He is the type who has to see in order to believe."

"If there really is a ghost," the term was arrant with incredulity from his malevolent lips, "then she should have been able to let us out by now," Hugo endeavored to rationalize the world that was set before him, a world he was currently incapable of comprehending. If only he would realize that the world did not always act upon such rationale.

"It doesn't work like that, dumbass." It was the first swear I uttered in the presence of others and even as it tumbled from my lips, it felt anomalous and strangely out of place. However, I did not acquire the will to lament it. I truly meant it for my discontentment was reaching unfathomable levels. The man possessed a way of vexing me so that I am sure Eric would be fervent to add to his arsenal of beleaguering provocation.

Revelation widened Sookie's eyes as the not-regretted word directed her deliberation back upon me. "Danny!" her flabbergasted temperament vocalized, clearly staggered by my sudden use of such dynamic and potent language. She was prominent for preparing coarse swears when time permitted, yet she never seemed to endorse such loutish language when it fell from other's lips, especially my own once she was informed of my age.

"What? He cannot exactly hear me now can he?" I justified my actions with an undeniable form of rationality that left her struggling to form a confutation. "I cannot get you out, but I know someone who can. I just hope he has not killed himself yet." I murmured the end for it was such an acerbic addendum and I did not wish to distress Sookie any more than she already has inflected upon herself.

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There he was once more, rendered blasé with legs apathetically crossed as if time had not exalt him with its company for it feared such a thing as old as he. For a tentative moment I contemplated if he was personally acquainted with time, cronies that both chortled with heads cast back as they circumvented the commands of death and decay. He welcomed me with a bemused countenance that implied my awaited presence in glances of silence.

"Hello, again. Pleased to see that you still exist for the time being." With nerves straining my tone, words became sheathed in superfluous elation that drifted peculiarly throughout the room. As they twisted and turned ineptly amongst the solemn, I was left to regret their callow and discomfited discord that struck our dialogue gauche.

Godric remained silent for he had no name to commune with considering he did not place worth on such a trifling filament of consonants and syllables. His silence implicated that my docile dialogue of our tête-à-tête would have to sustain the weight of two.

The lull permitted me to perceive that not a semblance of sentiment lingered within the contours that fashioned his façade. Neither a twinge of a grin nor the molder of a grimace graced his lips as he appeared to be once again reticent in my company, a sententious dearth of affect that I was growing somnolent of for it appeared nothing riled such a rejoinder in him that coerced the despotism of his façade to emancipate the vigor he once procured. Yet he remained persistently phlegmatic, an iota of the sublimity he once conveyed.

Unable to fathom the enigma that is his mind, for he chose to express it in means that I was incapable of translating, I postulated that a prompt tactic was more apt for such a juncture. Time appeared to be of the essence after all.

My tone fostered an air of austerity as a means of compensation for the inept silence that rolled forth upon the room, pressing itself into the corners for some fortuitous fool to blunder upon. "I truly am sorry to disturb you once more but I require your assistance. A friend," my tongue muddled over the word, its contents being foreign upon my lips, "of mine is in trouble and I am virtually useless." I reciprocated in a matter of alacrity, aspiring for the circumstance to be of some other promulgation.

An abidingly inert blink fell upon his eyes as he engraved this juncture in his memory, the moment the dead beseeched benignity from him, someone who was in the arid ambit of fatality itself. Just as indolently as they closed, they lackadaisically opened once more to the novel and perturbing scene before him. "I am afraid that I must be of no use," He replied with cavalier words that were bereft of time. "If I free her and she returns to the others, then they will come and I will be prevented from meeting the dawn."

That was when I noticed it, the attenuate concave nature the flesh that carved his cheeks took and how his skin had considerably blanched in relation to others. He was ravenous and judging by its austerity taking form upon his façade, it was evident that it was intentional and its duration had endured longer than the span of several months. He has abjured himself the very crux of his life for weeks end. Rancorously I entertained the ideation that my endeavors would be abortive for he had centuries to amass this one introspection and wield it into action. My compendiary congregations alone were not enough to preponderate centuries of rumination and self-repugnance.

"I am not going to be able to talk you out of this," I conjectured as my gaze faltered upon the concave configuration that was him. My mind was finally reaching for its long awaited grasp on verity, yet it refused to forego the delusional emanation of optimism it has been clinging to for years past. It merely fashioned it into a form of rationality that my speech succumbed to. "Fine, but others do not deserve to die for your selfishness. Sookie is innocent and should be set free." Despite the allure of amity eluding the two of us, Sookie was still a meritorious person who did not deserve such a deplorable demise.

Then it came.

It came roaring, beseeching all who would listen as it tore through our consciousness, besmirched by a tenuous scream that wielded the clout to cease our dialogue even at such a distance. I knew it fell from Sookie's lips and it was the attenuating nature of her cry that startled and awoke consternation within myself for I feared that the distance that separated us may be too much. It soon lurked within the room, pervading amok as if desiring the attention. It lapsed upon my flesh, importunately imploring for benevolence as it enticed my neurons. It tasted of the abnormal novelty of blueberries, a deceivingly saccharine scent that only tasted repugnantly acerbic upon the tongue as it aroused an unknown foreboding and acrimony within me. I wished to be rid of it, to never taste its invidious taste of empty promises and bitter days past upon the tip of my tongue yet it remained, importuning and eliciting me of a past I may never comprehend.

My eyes began to moistened, incommodious tears beginning to form and threatening to fall as the tribulation clumped within my throat, rendering it the sole thing I was capable of thinking about as it stole my breath from my very lungs. It fluently filled my mind, weighing upon the middle until it cracked under its clamorous presence, seeping escaped notions across the span of my consciousness with worried words and whispers of insanity. I do not know why I wept and perhaps that is what daunted me the most as it left me wondering why I abhorred such an aroma to the point of tears. I have never felt this sensation before and I never wish to again.

"Please Godric," my plea was no more audible then a whisper as I contended with the torrid constitution of melancholy for my will to speak. I took a superfluous breath, collecting my thoughts in an attempt to recompose myself yet my façade began to crack as I felt the tears beginning to accommodate my cheeks, falling gingerly upon the flesh in the manner of compunctious kisses that only invited more of its nature. Godric's gaze fell upon them, allured by such a sight as if their presence disconcerted him, reminding him of what he once forgotten. He no longer listened to me for my words were preponderated by the tenuous words the tears crafted before they fell, embodying the sound of a child's whisper for it was the only language the sorrowful knows. "Please help her. She deserves to live."

A mere curt nod beckoned his assent before being transfixed into an evanescent flash of distorted flesh and an array of nimble movements the eyes laggardly pursued. The lock was effortlessly broken and the door, despite being gingerly pushed aside, swung fervently open as if ecstatic it was being used once more. Then Godric was gone.

My gaze traveled to the floor, resting upon the tile where the tears deemed their adobe yet none appeared. The tears of the departed apparently do not subsist in the realm of the breathers. They may never discern what occurred as it faded in the attenuating manner of a memory, leaving me to query if it truly existed once upon a time or if it was a fabrication of my wicked imagination. I could not prevent my mind from wondering that if I too would fade away like them, nothing to be remembered by but the subdued echo of where I once stood.

Soon, I too departed for I never intended to linger in such a presence of perplexity and self pity. With each step I took my mind numbed until only speculations of Sookie's tirelessly remained, tentatively carrying me there upon the sight of her deliverance.

Sookie's fingers passed along the buttons of her sun dress, reconnecting the fabric as the trepidation she once held clumped within her throat, suppressing her ability to breath yet she did not appear to notice such trivial things. Her disheveled disposition coerced my mind to ponder over predicaments that were less tactful than originally assumed. Sookie remained in the cage for she was apprehensive of what now filled her line of vision.

Godric's hands framed a rugged man's visage as it was more than enough to lift him in such a berating manner despite the man's rather robust stature. "Godric," the man pleaded with intoxicated life brimming within his irises that revealed empty promises of a life altered if only he were granted what he craved for. "It's me," he sustained with his final breath of air, conserving the rest out of dismay of this truly being the end. He claimed no wife or child as his yet he clung to life as if there subsists a rationale or intention for his survival. An imploration lingered upon his lips, quivering with each passing second his life rested with the indefinite.

For perhaps the first time the lines that adorned Godric's visage contorted into something decipherable, something other than apathy. Abhorrence lined his countenance and arched his nose upon the sight of the tremulous man who no longer behaved like one. It was a rather repugnant aroma of antipathy that trounced the trepidation and confined it within a corner where it caved upon its craven nature.

My lips parted to liberate the protest that surged upon my tongue yet they were too slow, proving as trivial as their intensions as the final sound of Gabe was made, a final choke of an imprecation. All that left my lips was an exhaled breath, a mere memory of what could have been. I witnessed his body fall once more back to the ground for the earth to claim for it was no longer a man but a corpse. A trace of vigor lingered within the man's eyes, a supple tawny that stood as an ember against the murky shadows of the indefinite, yet it was soon chased away by the dismal essence of death. It was curious how promptly it can occur, I noted while we stood breathlessly observing the remains as we confronted a fear left to our imagination.

What was it like? A whimper in the fading light or perhaps a strident thunder that ceased the universe? What was it like to be turned into a fraction of yourself? I could not recall and perchance it was best that way as my gaze remained upon the space where a man once stood. Given my state I should be contented with such a final notion yet I feared it for I knew none could elude its grasp, not even me.

_Murder_. The term played obstinately in my mind, twisting into new angles for assessment. Yet it never sunk in quite like this before. This is what it was like, the abhorrent aroma of musky earth rendered foreboding as we wondered who it was for. Was this too how I died? By the fate of someone else's hands?

Godric snapped his neck dexterously, with only a mere motion his life was taken from him never to be returned again. The alluring sense of pleasure emitting from Godric in implementing yet another execution, transforming a man's life into another tick mark that tainted his soul, cascaded down my spine where it dispersed in a calming notion that only left me concerned for what was to come and what would have been. His lips curled back in the form of a snarl, permitting his nature to extend his fangs. However, they never emerged. The realization of the actions he had committed caused him to relapse back into the grey and acerbic state of remorse and self-loathing, enticed by evidence offering itself as a prompt of the claim he set to his nature. With penitent eyes, he casted himself back into the faction of fiends. He remained a thing left to be feared and despised, something too close to the inferno for salvation. Conceivably this was the curse of the vampire, being reborn with a hole in your heart and another in your morals. This is what it was like to be an abomination.

A hard swallow preceding even harder breathing was the solitary counter heard by a startled Sookie, now questioning the role of her savior. It did little to vanquish the fear stained atmosphere within the area.

"None of you should have come here." His tone acquired a subtle edge where he contemplated jumping, ending it all once and for all. His brows fell in compunction, reprehensible that others must witness his true nature by his actions and not his meager words alone.

A dispute hung upon my tongue yet it was never wielded for an abrupt presence broke all of our indecisive dialogue. Spellbound, Eric hesitated in the doorway, rendered humbled and complaisant in the presence of his maker. Godric's name played breathlessly upon his lips as he bowed before the boy, slowly sinking to his knees as if it resting upon the back of a reverie that willed him to the floor.

Unable to contain the apprehension that filled her troubled mind, Sookie merely rested the palms of her hands upon her arms in order to prevent herself from quivering. An endeavor that proved futile as the fright rendered her body unruly. Its taste I attempted to ignore for it reminded me of things I wished not to dwell upon.

Desiring a change in atmosphere for its restlessly dancing shades of violet and ocher were overwhelming to witness, I dared myself to speak. "You're late," I chided tenderly for the previous scenes took away my resolve to chastise the blatantly arrogant temperament that is Eric. I do not think my snide comment even registered to his ears for all of his senses were being dedicated to his maker. An offer of devotion encased in wisps of honey that fell upon the tongue in saccharine drops as he basked in Godric's presence. They tickled the fingertips as each one passed.

Godric's gaze averted from mine to his child where it fell upon him with all of the scrutiny in the world. He looked upon him as a parent would a delinquent child, lines drawing and extending his once apathetic façade into the long looks of condemnation. "You were a fool for sending them after me." Despite such callous words, they were crafted from the supple tone of affection.

Eric began to shape a rebuttal, justifying his ruthless actions marked by desperation, yet Godric merely interrupted him with a censorious gaze and even more disapproving words. Despite his scrutiny for his progeny, a subdued smile curled the corners of his lips in amusement as he noted his child's enduring fidelity that strengthened as the days grew and passed. Despite the revitalizing sensation of adoration and loyalty between the two that twisted and turned in the tempting way of play, I felt my core begin to tense as a reaction to the sight for I have never met another other than myself who has interrupted Eric and proceeded to exist long enough to converse of it.

"We need to leave before the Fellowship has time to respond to your intrusion." I made no attempt to soften my gaze that was currently placed venomously upon one irrational Viking. It appears that certain "plans" could be terminated only when he saw fit which regrettably gave the plunderer an air of authority that left the rest of us abiding too. It rolled forth in overwhelming waves of amber that fell with the sound of thunder. Each wave left a pungent taste upon my tongue that was only reinstated by the next.

Eric spared the grace of his scornful remarks yet their dearth left nothing to acknowledge my admonition. He merely disregarded the things that he could not alter, a defense mechanism he developed before the world was round. "How long has it been since you fed?" He inquired, his gaze refusing to wavier upon anyone else's presence, rendering us into distractions in the company of his maker.

"I require very little blood anymore," Godric promptly stated with pursed lips, the scrutiny claiming what once belonged within his placid cobalt eyes. He was disconcerted by his child's words, exasperated that at such a time of treachery his mind could only rest upon the trivial notion of blood, the very thing that created such a quandary.

Before another word was capable of being uttered, the shrilling sounds of sirens could be heard, waxing and waning like the moon. Each cry left an echo for the dismay to be sheltered. "They know you are here," I interpreted their moans, familiarizing myself with their cry of a crisis that consisted of such a caliber.

"Save the human." Godric adjured as his gaze fell about the room, fluttering as if marked impatient by the interrupting sounds of the siren. "Go on," he prompted with amber spun words of clout upon noting his child's reluctantly. The contours of his visage weighed heavily upon his iris skin, pulling it down to a submissive scowl .

Eric's reply was soft and laced with an uncharacteristic sense of warmth that emerged curved and coral as it melted the winter within his eyes. "I am not leaving your side until you are-"

"I can take care of myself." An intolerant snarl harden his diction as each syllable flowed in a foreign pronunciation that parted with waves of antagonism and disdain, a glimpse of a past best forgotten. It pulled upon his brows, compelling them down with the plummet of bliss. A delectable fury was brooding within him that tasted of spiced cinnamon that warmed the senses as it danced upon my tongue, refusing to be swallowed. The years he possessed crafted it into an aged spice that appeared overwhelming as it leisurely subsided, resting as an ember as it poised to blaze once more. I shivered in its presence as my lids fell heavily upon my eyes and my head turned away, straitening my back in a rigid posture as each neuron abruptly awakened, rendering me incapable of experiencing much more.

"Leave through the sanctuary," I managed to murmur through gated lips, struggling to compose myself once more. "Its multiple exists will take them longer to block." I supplied, the severity of the situation finally striking a cord of sense within me. I found myself hoping that time would be kind to us this once.

"Spill no blood on your way out." The phrase appeared forced into existence by Godric's lips, as if he disputed the nature of his tongue to craft them. The bloodlust had subsided and the morals remained, appearing earnest despite the compensating need for such false fabrications.

Once they had left, their steps made frenzy and rash by the intoxicating savor of freedom, my gaze fell upon the carcass that once belonged to Sookie's almost rapist. I desired to look away, anywhere but at the man that reminded me of the monster that lurked just beneath the surface of the boy apathetically standing in front of me. I had never been this close to death before. I feared it in a way that could not grace others for it reminded me of my own mortality that I desired and how effortlessly it could be taken away once I attained it. And yet, it was alluring as if asking me to play, whispering tales of an afterlife where despair may never cross. I felt terror, the repugnant tang of substandard blueberries. I deemed it my own for I feared such a thing that could entice me so and cause me to surrender my optimism, the sole thing that I had left. I attempted to conceal my alarm with my gaze cast to the floor yet I fear that my precautions have failed me this time.

"Do you fear me now little one?" Eyes raised to meet mine in pursuit of the humanity he had forsaken so long ago. With remorse abating the cobalt that painted his irises, the answer he was seeking was already found. The query was only to confirm what he already deemed to be true.

Unable to fashion the fable that I desperately clung to, the truth emerged in pursuit of the light.

"Yes." It came out breathless, coercing its way to the surface for its moment of autonomy in the florescent lighting. It was the only counter I was capable of responding with, the truth. "I didn't believe. I didn't want to believe but you killed them. You murdered all of those children and you took pleasure in doing so. Why?" It felt like such an inane query as the air of rationality and veracity ripped through it, yet it had to be fashioned for the sake of my sanity.

"Because they were there," he replied with the brutality of a pessimist. "Because I am damned and that will be all that I can ever be." His gaze did not falter as the consequence of his actions vanquished the compassion within his eyes leaving a sanctuary of the corroded onyx to plunder.

"But you saved Sookie." My mind was grasping at mere loose ends, praying for one to hold firm in order to place my trust upon.

"By killing another?" He inquired with the scoff of the damned, pausing to permit the weight his words carried to strike me down. "I have killed for nearly two thousand years, my conscious hardly distinguished a difference between one more."

"No, that can't be true. You desire a change. I can feel it." I spoke the truth for its tender tug at the consciousness felt balmy and alluring, yet it refused to linger for it could not make a feast from these crumbs. The terror lingered, bringing the menace of tears that must follow as my mind wondered upon the curious notion of how one boy could be such a contradiction.

"I have spent a century waiting to evolve." He blinked slowly, lids falling profoundly upon his form of a somber certainty before continuing, "I have been waiting for something that will never come."

The riling resentment of being incapable of changing what lay just without my grasp turned within me, blazing with animated eyes of derision as it bent a crooked finger to beckon what tact held back. "Don't give me that bullshit!" Despite his façade not yielding to the sensation he felt within himself, he was startled by my impulsive change in diction and syntax. This was perhaps the first in my existence that I have spoken so ill and without the proper grace of mannered intellect. The fury only bolstered as it riled within me, the caliber that endangered my very existence for its strength would surly carry me away with it. Its presence beckoned the acumen I have kept for two years. "We like to believe that the world is constant but if it is one thing that I have leaned it is that nothing stays the same, not even us. So don't you dare blame your nature or the world for something you are incapable of completing because of your fear or reluctance. If you truly knew anything then you would know the only way to obtain your dreams is to wake up and find them yourself. You cannot waste your life waiting for them to find you."

Zeal seeped from my heated gaze, abrupt words that spoke in the rhythmic beats of jazz. It shaped a vile symphony with his stringed refutation that protested with the lingering echo of a bow striking against the heart of a violin.

Perhaps this was the first time he had listened to me and truly heard my words for it left a query brimming upon his lips that tasted of what was once forgotten. It broke free from his mind and fell upon his lips as an alteration in dialogue. "Why are you trying to aid me? I do not require it and your passion leads me to believe that it is not solely for my benefit." The cynicism was not noted in his tone yet it was tasted, consisting of a burnt ginger tang that withered in the presence of day.

The resentment once contained within me subsided into a fraction of itself that was still left to gnaw at the back of mind as the white noise it once was. The fissure it once occupied was now left for self-realization to emerge, a new found weapon that caused devastation. "I have an uncanny need to prove people wrong. I suppose in a sense that makes me selfish too." I replied with a ghost of my former tone, wishing for it to be all there was. At least all that was meant to be noted.

Godric remained silent, time turning his posture to stone as he awaited an explanation for he surly believed one to be appropriate.

I sighed for I did not know of any other means to express my quarrel. I could simply mention that I was hired to complete such a service yet I knew my "passion" would not permit such a counter to pose as believable. By clinging to such artificial pretenses and facades, I was aiding no one. It was time, once again, to speak of a truth that longed for the light but was best kept within the shadows.

With antagonism no longer present to contort my speech, I spoke rationally once more after a subtle sigh escaped my lips. "Because if you are right and there is truly nothing left to live for, then what am I suppose to do? Pass on willing? Fade into a memory, if there even exists a person to hold such a burden? I cannot except that sentence like you can." I took a superfluous breath before clarifying for the boy's silence permitted me to continue my story, presenting him with something he has never heard of before. Its difficulty to divulge only reminded me of the delusions of grandeur I clung to. "For nearly two years I have been dead and this entire time the only thought I had was fixing my situation by any means necessary. I want to be alive again. I want to feel the ground under me and have a reason to use a door. God, I want to eat again and actually be able to savor the taste of food. I think I would even try sardines!" A dry chortle escaped my lips that such a concept crafted. I desired for him to comprehend such a thing as absolute as bereavement and that it is not the means to a resolution that some deem it as. I aspired for my knowledge to be enlightened within him, unleashing the rationality that he had kept caged within himself for such an unruly period of time. So I continued to elucidate, whishing for at least one word to be headed. "And yet, despite how wonderful all these things are, how purely amazing life is, you want to end it. You, who has lived longer than anyone, wants to die. I cannot comprehend it."

"It appears that my actions have unsettled you and for that I apologize," the corners of his lips curled into the offer of a smile, a minute, lingering trace of bliss that was being clouded by such pungent compunction. Yet it only brought about the return of my resentment for how could he offer such benevolent words in a dispute such as this. "Yet you must understand," he continued and his tone fell upon the somber existence of an unchangeable past, "that it is because of the extent of my life that I have chosen my actions. Two thousand years worth of sin is enough. It is time for my judgment to come."

"What a terrible view of life you have." The words fell silently as they made their presence known by such a minute fashion. Yet, they descended from a state of mind that no longer offered me autonomy and thus they fell without restraint. "I wish you could see yourself through their eyes. Maybe then you would not subject yourself to this idiocy." My gaze fell upon his, scrutinizing him as he did me. "Even then I fear that it may not be enough." My arms crossed defensively against my chest in a censorious posture that I typically reserved for Eric's tirades, yet I felt it appropriate to use in this certain circumstance. He remained as stone, offering no figure of a sentiment as an insight into his ancient intellect.

The vigorous steps of a militia impending could be heard above us, the reverberation of rubber slapping against stone in a conjuring way that spoke of defending territory. They would not rest. They were the lambs that had become the hunters and they would persecute their prey for their sins. The more histrionic the sacrifice the more appeasing their death would be. War had commenced and none shall flee its unruly grasp.

"You must leave," The phrase was cut from ice, forming a pair with his gaze as it became fixed upon me once more. It quickly softened, dulling the cerulean winter they once contained upon the constraint of his nature. The lines and contours that once shaped his obstinate visage now lengthened to where they met at the slant of his chin, transfixing the once somber expression into one of a subtle alacrity. Even as it subsided, parts of it lingered upon his features speaking of their awaited return. It was evident that the sounds of warfare that reverberated above us were not the sole reason he desired my departure for he was growing faintly weary of our conversation. Given his stature, a justification was not something he familiarized himself with and thus thought it peculiar when such a thing was called of him.

I refused to grant him what he desired for my inquiries were still left without answers to make them whole. My gaze fell upon his once more, searching for a means to a final end. One that will attest my point and convert his obstinate inclination into one that will be malleable and capable of bending to my will. Yet none could be found for he sat adamantly and indifferently in a similar fashion that I found him in. He would abscond this time yet he would not be so compliant in time to come.

Altering tactics, the corners of his lips curled in a tenuous smile that offered consolation. "Do not spend your time worrying about me, little one. I can take care of myself." His tone abated, encompassing the faint warmth of a smile that did not reach his eyes for they remained the dismal cinereal of death.

"That is what got us into this predicament, "I felt compelled to remind him, burdening myself with such a pessimistic role that clouded the once light hearted optimism I felt. "And do not refer to me as _little one_," I declared hastily, imitating his enunciation as my tongue stumbled over the name bestowed upon me, failing at mimicking its foreign pronunciation.

My pitiable attempt at humor returned the subdued smile to his lips as the faint lilac of amusement encompassed his words. "Forgive me, but I never asked for your name." Now I was deemed imperative by the two thousand year old vampire incapable of extending forgiveness to himself.

"It's Danny. At least I think that it is." I supplied as an afterthought of a murmur, permitting a moment's worth of contemplation to ponder if it too was a fabrication of my wicked imagination.

"You have my word, Danny," the name sounded peculiar to my ears as it fell from his lips, no longer my own for it was transformed into something the stars themselves envied. A curt dip of the head as a nod signaled his acknowledgment of the words I provided yet not the conception of their semantics that typically proceeds. However, there stood a lone smile that claimed his lips as its own and curled its corners by its tenuous nature of reflection. He was beginning to comprehend the edges of my rationality yet I feared that it was too late. He was too far gone. Prudence was clouded by the delusions he has lived in for centuries past.

And yet, I was thwarted. I carried the shred of hope that my words alone possessed the fervor to alter his perception of reality. Provide him with the clarity we all seem to posses yet he discards. I had hoped that I would be graced with such a title yet it appears that I am not entitled to such a thing of enlightenment. I fear that no one would be fit to carry that burden.

A lingering look upon his returned vacant demeanor did little to ease my troubled mind yet I continued to move forward, compelling myself to not look at the past that waited just behind my shoulder. I held in a gratuitous breath as I lost myself to the solid mass of a concrete wall, collecting myself just past the barrier it produced. Releasing my breath, I collected my thoughts as my gaze lingered upon the wall, knowing he was just past it.

I left him there to be detained by his judgment and the memories of countless lives past, the vice of them shall never wipe clean from his hands. I left him just as he did to them. The parallelism forced me to entertain the notion of us perhaps sharing more than what was initially led to believe. With every step that brought me farther from him, for distance shall always be measured by his presence for he was time, my hesitance faded in order for the relentless curiosity to consume the void of a sanctuary it left.

I noted the sigh that escaped my lips yet I was unsure to deem it content or exasperation for both seemed to exist. As well as the fear. Oh yes, the terror of being something other than your desires. It will always remain as I conjecture if I too will begin to think like him, devoid of elation. Sinicism will be all that remains after the time has passed, a caveat I never heeded until now. I firmly closed my eyes as I entertained delusions of me possessing the vigor of a sizable form of resolve. Perhaps it was only a delusion, yet it tamed the trepidation and as of now, that is all that I can ask for.

Each contemplating step, pressed thin with the apprehensive notions the future brings, brought me closer to the reverend's office. I merely scoffed at the lock upon the door, not needing to be troubled by such a blatant cry of mistrust. I became like air once more as I passed through the door. Hesitance diluting with every step, the revelation of a secret bewitched my interest.

Warm shades of russet and a rich verdant intertwined to form the Reverend's office. An enthralling chocolate stretched across the walls, scattering around pictures and other odds and ends that adorned the walls until it rested upon the rear wall. In this far off corner rested the oak carved desk that struck the alleged hand of God. It was accompanied by gaping folders containing half read documents complete with coffee rimmed stains that were scattered across its holy surface, accumulating to its manner of imperative commerce. Several books depicted emblems of crosses and hands raised to entreaty that acted as a reminder of the integrity in the world he once clung to. A callous fabrication of righteousness that became deluded over the years due to his blinding faith.

Yet, one must not openly question the man who has faith. One can only silently disprove.

Upon further inquiry the papers seemed to contain tactics of a preparation for Armageddon and one could only assume which side Steve was claiming to belong to. The text depicted images of rifles completed with silver bullets, stakes fashioned into crosses, and silver arrows dipped in holly water by the Pope himself. Proclamations of war accompanied the pictures along with hand written letters from other church officials across the region. It appears the restless Reverend has been quite the active hand of God and his followers stretched beyond his modest establishment here. The brutality of the matter only increased upon finding a date circled upon his calendar. A broad ring the tint of blood that will be spilled housed the date June 21st of next year. The Summer Solstice. The longest day of the year.

Numbed by the distress as the contents of my mind moved restlessly with a newfound sense of urgency, the dismal realization of an underestimation forced the air from my lungs in a disgruntled sigh. A man driven to madness could scheme the brilliant means to an end that others refused to acknowledge. Newlin was not only preparing for Armageddon, he was planning it.

From one horror to another, the pendulum swung, never bothering to rest upon such a trifling fabrication of serenity.

I fled the room with the same newfound exigency my contemplation possessed, steps being transfixed into discomfited strides to the tempo of the drums of war reverberating from the walls, chipping the paint as it passed. Passing images of carnage and the annihilation of a race forced each step down in the fashion of a sprint. My search ended abruptly upon the sight of a woman's eyes widening upon my presence.

"Where do you think you are going?" The words raged from her lips, entwined with an authoritarian tone that spoke ill will of her domestic demeanor. She appeared to be an amiable woman, being a mother of three with golden tresses and envious lucid cerulean eyes who baked brownies for the congregation every Wednesday. The soft floral pattern of her sun dress only appeared to reinforce her docile nature. The palms of her hands rested upon the soft cherry cardigan that hugged her hips in a hastened knot, a stance she reserved for reprimanding her children as she awaited a response.

My own words caught within my throat upon the realization of being recognized by someone capable of producing a heartbeat. A form of hope I am not sure I have ever experience for it felt oddly new yet extraordinarily exhilarating arched the curve of my lips in a long awaited smile. Euphoria eased my troubled mentality, making light of what was once dark as it put to rest the qualms that haunted each step I took. The woman's brows rose charily in rejoinder to what she classified as abnormal behavior.

I failed to answer her for I was in the presence of my own queries. "You can see me?"

The woman's brows furrowed as lips pressed into a firm line of contemplation. The workings of a slow mind were insufferable to witness for one who has sought a moment such as this for years. "I can't hear you and I don't care what you are trying to tell me." A thick southern accent rolled forth from her tongue, coercing her diction to sharpen even more. A shattered form of a smirk seized her lips, permitting a dash of derange to widen her eyes in such a dreadfully foreboding way that jeopardized my safety. "You're one of them aren't you? Steve will be pleased to have another fang banging whore to add to his collection. Be prepared you Satan lover, you're about to fry!" The idiocy of a blinding faith stretched her inflections an octave higher than necessary as the vile resentment clung to her in shades of crimson that blazed in the fabrication of a biblical fire.

The optimism within me dispersed immediately, leaving only the chasm it once occupied as a reminder. The melancholy rationality offered resurfaced, tainting the walls with shades of a dismal grey that would never wash away. "Figures," I sighed upon realizing fait's perverse game. "The one person capable of seeing me wants me dead."

The woman, drunk with a blinding rage that was once derived from fear, eagerly advanced. Each step was balanced upon her toes as she prepared to sprint towards the acclaimed sinner before her. For a wavering moment my gaze merely rested upon the woman before me. My feet were unmoving as my consciousness attempted to draw meaning from such a peculiar turn of events, as if movement was not permitted until logic was sought. That was the terms by which I defined the edges of my world. The woman before me truly wanted me dead all due to the commands of a single man. It appears reason was not to be found from such an event but it did little to tame the melancholy that terrorized my heart.

Before her steps collected into a sprint, I felt the particles within me pull apart, separating only to gather once more behind the sanctuary the wall provided. It was such a peculiar sensation, the tickling sensation of losing consciousness entwined with the abrupt awakening from a dream.

"Holly fuck!" the coarse curse was heard, quite audibly too I might include, from behind the wall. No less from the woman whose perspective was now forced into a change. Such harsh words were followed by a string of prayers offered as repentance for such a vile mannered slip of the tongue.

Her blatant profanities fell upon deaf ears, for the focus of the evening was currently captivated by the impression of a slaughter. I would not have time to dwell upon this new heartbreak for before me stood an army fashioned from the church's congregation whom were all adorned with silver chains, swinging portentously from their grasps. The flavor of allegiance immersed the air, a lingering zest of salt that rolled froth like a relentless and unyielding spring. Everyone's gaze was cast upon the main entrance which housed the bloodlust of Stan and his fellow followers within its frame.

"We'll kill you first," Stan spoke with a chortle pressed upon his lips, pleased to be receiving his Western movie ending of a showdown. "Same way we did your father," fell from his lips in a low murmur as his perverse smirk brandished his fangs. A glimmer that enthralled the rigged onyx of his irises proposed a declaration of war.

Such an animate proclamation compelled us all to contemplate a sole conception. It quivered between our communal consciousnesses, pressing itself into the forefront of all of our minds until it spoke to us adroitly with worried words; _this will not end well_.

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**AN: As always, thank you all my lovely readers for reading! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and that it satisfied your Godric cravings. I apologize if it was not up to par with the rest of the chapters but I have been editing this for about a week now until I decided I could no longer look at it. Hopefully this lethargic streak will not continue. Anyways, reviews, adds, and favorites are always appreciated but not required. If you are feeling chatty and desire to converse with another True Blood fan, then please don't hesitate to message me! Have a wonderful fan fiction filled day!**


	8. Chapter Seven: A Drumming Noise

**Pieces of Me**

Chapter Seven:

_A Drumming Noise_

_**War leaves nothing in its wake but the memory of lessons** learned._

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**A/N: Thank you all for reading the last chapter and special thanks to those of you who added this story and selected it as one of your favorites.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own True Blood, the delectable series created by Allan Ball that is based on Charline Harris's Southern Vampire Mystery novels. So please do not sue me for you will be terribly disappointed, especially considering I still only have eight dollars in my bank account.**

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_Don't turn your head with a trivial scoff, a breath of condescend air that you would not dare waste upon just any trifling manner. Don't close your eyes with a child's like innocence for it is far too late for such a blatant lie. This is what life is, and in a blink of an eye it can all disappear. It leaves some rich while it deprives others, inflicting pain, and yet such a peculiar sense of pleasure emerges. It can make men crumble and fall upon their knees, swearing to change their ways for just five more minutes. Only five more minutes. Because in a world filled with death, we can only be addicted to life._

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The anomalous taste of blueberries repugnantly filled my mouth, refusing its departure as it lingered upon my tongue disdainfully in a manner only the superfluous can while my gaze fell upon the war brimming just within my sight. The corners of my lips fell from their own disdain upon what filled my line of vision.

Fellow Christians seeking to better the world with their slanted ways and silver chains lying flaccid from their shoulders as if the medals they have earned from service, pretending to be stronger than they are by silently repeating their motto in their heads. The animated words of their adored preacher justified their acts of odium as they advanced with sideways glances of worried looks to one another that they dared not express in words. They were the sheep sent to slaughter and it was the sight of the keen fangs of their oppressors that made them realize their fate.

Yet, they did not falter. Though their legs trembled and their eyes widened with notions of an end they did not foresee, they dared not run for they fought for something they believed in, a restored world of a tainted and bloodlust serenity that was crafted in their collective consciousness by the words off of a soapbox. They fought for the adoration of the ones they measured their lives by, the ones that loved them in return, and that alone was enough to make them stay for now. The affection they bestowed danced in the breeze the opened doors invited, a pearlescent pink that shimmered in the florescent lighting as it twisted and turned to a rhythm only it could hear. It fell from their flesh as silk, warm as the rays of summer through the window's glass upon touch as it caressed the skin. Every now and then it dulled in the presence of their trepidation, yet it still remained. They continued to march to the drumming of their beating hearts.

Their eyes warily watched the figures clad in leather before them, vigilantly darting from one unruly being to another as they stood structured in to lines that hindered their escape. Fangs extended to greet the silver that threatened to burn them, jaws set firm in censure over what filled their line of vision, and fingers curled back to form the white knuckled fists of a tensed and poised assail. The profound scent of hunger rolled forth from their presence as it seeped thick across the room like the portentous fog of a horror scene. It stung upon touch, leaving a dull and tedious twinge of where it once was as it parted me with an aberrantly saccharine and decadent taste of chocolate upon my tongue. It was all that remained for it enticed the senses to where it only felt its presence, rendered numb to the terror, fidelity, and conceit that shouted to be heard. With their eyes darkened by the lust, they only saw the blood that was to be spilled.

In the middle of this ordeal, appearing out of place against the backdrop of the brawl, stood a trembling Sookie who was several shades whiter than previously encountered. Her fear clung to the folds of her dress, tracing its floral pattern as it dulled its hue. Bill's arms were wrapped protectively around her tremulous frame, fangs extended to a group of "soldiers" that endangered their romantic comedy. They approached with discretion wavering in each footstep, slowing each step as if contemplating where it should be placed while jeopardizing the couple's wellbeing with the ominous swirl of a silver chain.

Upon the sight of them I began to wonder who would remain to walk away, to spin stories to any who would listen to this moment, to return home to their families and be reminded of the adoration they fought valiantly for. I wondered who would survive and who would perish all for the egocentric acts of one boy.

My gaze, incapable of enduring much more from its expedition across the room, finally rested upon what stood before me. And what a sight it was. The rather substantial frame of Eric laid embellished upon a sacrificial alter, the exposed flesh of his neck, wrists, and ankles were marked scarlet by the silver chains that bound him. Diminutive wisps of smoke arose from the compromising touch of silver that brought with it the crackling of a fire. Despite the apprehension I held for what brought him there, I could not contain the whim of a smile I had for seeing him in such a feeble position, for it was far more comical than previously imagined.

As my gaze traveled down and rested upon him, his eyes rose to meet mine. They held all the abhorrence in the world as it blazed beneath his cerulean irises, a vibrant ice that burned like fire beneath a thick layer of palled frost. It was a glower I was growing accustomed to for he never held anything but revulsion in my presence. No doubt, he held me liable for this sudden predicament.

Shattering the silence, I dared to speak. "I've missed a lot, haven't I?" I inquired between lips that could not resist the lop-sided curl of a smirk.

Eric merely responded with a glower sent from hell to which I exasperatedly rolled my eyes too, growing weary of such a glance that mired his verbal communication. I smoothed my lips, pressing them into a withered line, hoping to fall upon the expression of severity I had not moments ago before speaking again. "We need to talk later." This time we had far too much to converse on matters that were far too imperative to be dawdled by his insatiable ego.

"Yes. Yes, we do." He replied with a reprisal that strained his accent, an acerbic tone that ruptured through each syllable. It was only to be interrupted by a wave of melancholy that rippled across his façade, pulling all of its contents into the center as his mouth arched in the mold of a whimpering growl, rancorous fangs embellished through his seething breaths.

"You lose your threatening demeanor when you're tied to an alter." They were the sardonic lexis I left him with, striking the air with its salient conceit, gaining its strength from the freedom I possessed in the ability to walk away from his unruly presence. And I did not plan on wasting such a luscious opportunity despite the brutality that threatened to erupt before us.

Before I was permitted time to relish my insubordinate act, the escalading conundrum of a massacre casted another stone, reminding us all why we were present in such times of carnage. "You murderers!" Reverend Newlin bellowed as he advanced, the malicious intent of the past vexed him as he reminisced about the anguish of witnessing his parents' slaughter. The recollection lapsed upon the rims of his indigo irises, tainting them with shades of grey as they widened fully to savor his long awaited retribution, convinced that its taste would be sweeter with the presence of such a fresh memory engulfing his mind.

His recollected antagonism was trounced by Stan's own rancor for all things breathing as his fingers laced around the Reverend's neck, bringing him to the floor and holding him there with all his fury. No amount of vexed movement would grant the Reverend his freedom. He was trapped and such a notion of demise was slow to rake its nails across his mind with its stirring rationale.

Stan's lips curled relentlessly back in the frame of a malevolent smirk upon noting his conquest. It only widened upon feeling the Reverend squirmed feebly within his grasp, a despondent act for freedom that only incited Stan's predator instincts. "Destroy them," malice extended his tone as his gaze held the Reverend's, relishing the trepidation his words brought forth within them. "All of them." With a distinct click he embellished his fangs in the frame of a rumbling snarl before the Reverend's paled face.

I witnessed the terror Newlin had sway from him in a disparaging sprint, as if it too were frightened of what crouched before him. As it grazed my leg in its frightful flee, it left me with an arctic sweat that dripped from the dismay of a nightmare as it all cascaded down my spine and collected within the neurons of my fingertips. It was different; a more compelling and disparaging fear that has shattered most men with a single glance. It was the fear in the face of the monster that plagues your mind. It was a fear that matched my own.

With a single command, both vampire and human were sent into a concurrent frenzy of sadism and an escape of a distressed magnitude. Regardless of their deplorable dissent, each human fell into the clasp of a vampire as they rolled forth throughout the room like thunder, barred fangs threatening to rip and cut the feeble flesh that lay between them and the supremacy they believed to be entitled to.

It all collected within my mind, a thousand voices crying over the others to be heard, a thousand hands that raked their jagged fingernails across my translucent flesh. It was excruciating as they all flowed through me, one by one cascading down my spine with cries that still rung in my ears. They swirled together, pushing and pulling with a rapacious appetite until the lines between them blurred to where not even they could differentiate themselves. No, they were no longer the same. This was new. This was humanity.

The lights began to flicker in a similar fashion of the previous night, flooding the room in their artificial light before being drowned by the darkness of their shadows. Off and on, off and on, wavering ditheringly between their functions as the scenes that fell before us appeared to be no more than frames of fragmented movements that no longer contained the fluidity of war. The sight was accompanied by the low hum of electricity, marked uncertain of even its own actions for this was just as abnormal for it as it were for us.

I felt the fluttering of anticipation it brought within me. It rattled my bones in a newfound urgency as it beseeched me to do something, anything that would stop this nightmare from being something more than a bad dream. "Stan, stop! Can't you see that this is what he wants?" I cried to deaf ears for Stan or any of the other vampires refused to head my warning. I was derisory, laughably inadequate, and the realization of such a notion stung my pride like nothing I have ever experienced.

It grew within me, restless as it incessantly turned upon itself, cramped by such a minuscule living space I provided. Its desires consumed my own, yet it still hungered for something that I could not endow; change. It snarled, incensed by my inept nature as it pressed itself upon the cage my frame fashioned, stomping haughtily about through its demands. It clawed at my perception, ripping and snarling with jagged teeth of a vile veracity that I have kept in denial. No longer wanting to hear its valid bellows, I clasped my hands to my ears but to no avail. I feared it would never stop for its self-realization would be a part of myself that I would always carry, sullenly reminding me of my place in such a world.

In time, it was silenced by the presence of another, rendered dull and inaudible by the radiance of another. Through the chaos and the calamity of a potential perished community, there it stood. It tasted of the solace of home as it rained throughout the crowd, falling weightlessly upon their frames in drops of velvety lilac that chimed serenely like the melody of ecstasy. It was the pacifying essence of a diplomatically tranquil influence only one individual provided.

It was _him_.

"Enough," his voice rose high to the heavens for they remained weightless despite the magnitude that they carried. All notions of war subsided by the tone of his voice as inquiring eyes rose to meet his presence high above them as if the deity they burdened with their egocentric prayers. What they found both startled and humbled them, for there upon the rafter of the ceiling stood Godric.

Despite the refined lull of a pacified reassurance that sang softly of lessons learned as it whirled in the night air as rivers of luminous caramel that chased away the dismal dread, I was startled to find the lethargic beginnings of a resentment that plagued my perspective and distressed my mind. I held him accountable for it all; the fear, the loathing, the egocentric delusions, the brutality, and all the coercions of carnage. I was unsure if time would grant me the forgiveness to ease his mistakes from my troubled mind for I knew it to be his egotistical resolve that evoked such unremitting thoughts of carnage. It was him and it would always be him.

His gaze drifted down upon the scene that was placed before him, dismay weighing the corners of his lips in a frown as if the brawl were his blunder, for it was his proceedings that resulted in such a travesty. His gaze passed over me in a similar blasé demeanor as before, as if I were no more than an object in his presence. It only confirmed my fears of a world that held no purpose for my presence. With an eternal resolve, I would prove those looks wrong.

"You came for me, I assume." The once placid nature held by his subdued cobalt irises vanished. In its place stood the stoned authority he once forsaken as his gaze traveled across the room, seeking the culprit of such a fracas, and finding him as it finally rested upon Stan's frame.

Stan dared not show his face as a roll of his russet eyes dismissed his Sheriff's words, silently defying his authority in the dark of the shadows as he has done for years. His lips parted to divulge his fangs as he brought them closer to the Reverend's neck, intoxicated by the scent of trepidation he created, wondering if it were to taste as succulently luscious as it smelled.

Only faintly annoyed by his insubordination, for Godric has had his reservations for quite some time, the Sheriff's tone rested upon one that harbored a fraction of his position and power. "Underling," he called in the restrained manner of an insult that fluttered between Stan's ears in infuriation, halting him before he was able to answer his query over Newlin's blood. Despite the subtle nature of Godric's exasperation, it rolled forth upon the room as a summer's thunder, spilling forth erratically to take more than it could carry. Its cries were louder and more potent than any I have witnessed and I feared for its full effect.

Such a memento of his stature prevented Stan from proceeding as he grumbled a congruent response between the permission of his many vexations. Entranced by the aroma of Newlin's blood, his tongue passed over the space between his fangs in a whimpering thirst that was never quenched.

Godric spoke of broken vows of a coexistence that evolution would never permit, for survival would always unconsciously cling to us, proclaiming our fate for us. His borrowed words that carried the hollowed frame of propaganda, for they were not the notions of tranquility he breathed the life of truth into, rested upon a proposition. "Mr. Newlin, I do not wish to create bloodshed when none is called for. Help me set an example. If we leave you in peace, will you do the same?"

Brows pulled scornfully down to divulge his level of resentment, the Reverend looked upon Godric with an obdurate expression of repugnance. "I will not negotiate with subhumans." He bit the remark off of his tongue; for it was not able to craft the words fast enough to appease his subconscious brutality. His fingers traveled across the span of his collar, pulling at the unyielding fabric until it exposed his bare neck before Stan, embellishing the pulsing artery beneath such a thin veil of skin. "Kill me." His tone did not falter as it rested upon a delusional authority, clinging to it for it was all that it had left. "Do it. Jesus will protect me," he reassured a woman's cries.

I tasted the discontent his response left Godric. A scalded russet that filled all of your senses as it amerced Godric before it weighted his words, echoing it with its misinterpretations. "I am actually older than your Jesus. I wish I could have known him, but I missed it." Despite the simple gesture his words carried, they fell upon the congregation with the weight of a reality they have ignored for quite some time. Forgotten fears pressed to the back of their consciousness, certain members who were bold enough to meet this inconceivable boy's gaze would later deem the experience flabbergasting as they rummaged around his cobalt eyes for a truth they were unprepared to believe.

Only the sounds of his movements were heard as he floated throughout the church like a summer's breeze. With a moment's gasp, he appeared behind the Reverend in such a staggering speed that left the congregation weary of the events that were to unfold. His fingers curled with ascendancy around the Reverend's neck, fingertips pressing hard upon his flesh with the weight of past sins as Godric presented him to his own congregation for a verdict. "Good people, who of you is willing to die for this man's madness?"

The query was met with an unreserved silence by the congregation. Apprehensive glances passed about each member in wondering who would be imprudent enough to accept their fatality so eagerly. It was a perplexity that dulled the mind and incarcerated its potential as it fell upon the tongue as drops of water that reflected the colors of light, wavering between its many hues indecisively for none could match its true ambiance.

"That is what I thought," Godric spoke in an air of clout that tightened his tone, speaking as if confirming what he already knew. "Stand down everyone." He commanded in a gentle grace as if marked disenchanted and plausibly discomfited by such a meager cry for confrontation.

People throughout the room began to shuffle and stir, movement marked lethargic by their uncertainty. As their mind cleared from the apprehension that once seized them, they eagerly seized the liberation that was offered to them and began to leave, never looking back for fear his mind would change.

Despite the proclamation of an end, Godric still held the Reverend between his fingers. A ravenous hunger growled behind the flesh of its imprisonment, transfixing Godric's gaze into one of lust. Darkened eyes of desire fell upon the Reverend's quivering neck; the sound of blood pulsating from fright filled his ears as if it were a forgotten melody to a nostalgic tune he once remembered when he wore a younger man's clothes. Its scent was even more enthralling as it lulled his senses into elapsed reminiscences. The notion of an end filled his mind as it brimmed just beneath his irises, compelling his grip to tighten upon Steve's neck. Before I was permitted to protest, it quickly passed and his eyes returned to their sorrow upon realizing that he was not worth the grave.

I felt a egocentric sense of pride disclose as I watched the event unfold, a vast amethyst that fashioned my own reality from the contents of my heart rather than my mind as I hoped that this nature of his would be the one to prevail. However, the diminishing part of my consciousness that still clung to commonsensical logic nagged unremittingly upon the back of my mind, tugging at corners for an audience with any who would take note. It illuminated the notions I kept in denial; the veritable nature for one such as him and thus the destiny that must be bestowed upon him.

He was fake. His words were nothing more than hollow prayers towards a better future, a lie that we were left to build upon. And knowing this only added to the inexorable turmoil that distressed my already troubled mind.

"I dare say my faith in humankind is stronger than yours." They echoed in the way final words only could, consuming the space where Godric once stood as he walked away. Their acumen trailed behind him, leaving remnants of itself for us to remember this moment by.

There would be no bloodshed tonight.

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**A/N: I intended for this chapter to have a postwar scene in it, but it turned out to be over twelve pages altogether. Not wanting to present you guys with another ridiculously long chapter, I decided to break it into two separate ones instead. On the bright side, this means that another chapter will be posted once I come up with a proper title. It's currently labeled as "postwar scene." Not very creative, I know. Regardless of the title, it will likely be posted in a day or two. Hooray for happy accidents!**

**Well, that's enough of my ramblings for the day. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and please leave a review! Feedback, even if it's just a smiley face, is always appreciated! I am also looking for a beta for this story. Nothing too labor intensive, I would just appreciate another pair of eyes. If anyone is interested, then please PM me. Thanks for reading and have a wonderful, fanfiction filled day!**


	9. Chapter Eight: The Lies That Break Us

**Pieces of Me**

Chapter Eight:

_The Lies That Break Us_

**_Fill me with your lies, you're pungent dishonesties that you prefer to the reality that surrounds you, and I will thank you, for that is all that I have come to _**_know__._

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**A/N: I am sorry for once again I have deceived you. I intended for this chapter to have been posted two weeks ago but after editing it I decided to alter a few things and incorporate a flashback. And excuse after excuse later, I fell behind my deadline as per usual. As always, I apologize for the wait. On the bright side, I think it does a better job connecting Danny and Godric. Anyways, thanks to all of you who added this story and incorporated it into your "favorites" list. And special thanks to ellaella for reviewing! Thank you all very much for the encouragement and I hope that you keep enjoying this story.**

**Disclaimer: I am not Charline Harris nor am I Allan Ball. Therefore, I sadly do not own True Blood so I beg of you not to sue me because I am just a humble (and very broke) college kid.**

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_It always starts with a touch, docile and as chaste as its intensions. Then it escalates, building upon concepts neither of us understand until it takes its first breath on its own, becoming something we no longer control. Then we are left with placid caresses, fingertips dragged across the skin as a reminder of what has been, what used to be us. For we do not create emotions, they create us._

* * *

I dared not breathe until we were all housed by the sanctuary of Goric's home, holding in a breath from war as if it contained the fortune I sought. Around me were the people, both human and vampire, who conversed with one another in a merriment aberrant of their kind as it broadened throughout the room, brightening all that it touched as if it were the light of day. Premonitions of warfare faded from their minds and soon it was just an acrimonious memory they would later recall at another congregation such as this, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

In the middle of it all stood Eric with an impudent confidence that stretched far greater than a single man could hold. It dripped from him in the fabrication of ascendancy he demanded to possess; whispering words of grandeur within his ears before it fell, forcing his presence into every corner as if he owned the room that housed him. Oh, how I longed for a solid hand to slap him with.

"It's rather unbecoming of a young lady to glower," a voice graced by a substantial southern intonation that spilled forth upon his words in a Antebellum twang sauntered up to my side, refusing to acknowledge certain syllables as it strained his dialect. It wielded a jesting tone that curved at the corners in a way I knew only to be Bill's.

The mirth of the night's soiree coerced a slender smirk to press his lips into their mold of delight. Despite its rather diminutive stature, it was authentic which was far greater than could be said for the fictitious ones that he has been accommodating him for quite some time. Perhaps it was the delusions of inadequacy; the desire of wanting more than what was in his grasp that caused his smile to falter so. He always had such an insatiable appetite. Or perhaps it was the vile memento of his true character that prohibited the warmth of his smile from claiming his eyes. Regardless of my reservations, I truly did not know what plagued his mind and it aggrieved me to see him suffer so from an elusive cause. Marked indignant, I could only assume and pray that one day soon he would seek my audience on the matter. Until that day came, I would bear the grace of his smile for him.

He stood straighter, back marked rigid by the proper etiquette that was instilled within him at such a juvenile age, compensating for missing his other half. In truth, it was abnormal not to see Sookie dangling from his arm. With her company always near to him, one might postulate that he wore her as a novel accessory, seeking a materialistic comfort in her blinding and overbearing presence. I prayed that he would tire of her quickly for she was far too credulous and naïve to be one with as quick-witted and erudite as he. Then again, it may very well be the rationale for her appeal, for he always enjoyed the stroking of his ego. It was a character flaw for one such as he who actively compared his level of intelligence to those who shared the room with him, desiring to be above the others for it translated into his survival. However, he chose not to flaunt it in ways Eric preferred, blazon and demanding, rather he kept it secret as if silently confirming his place in the world. He would reveal it in time and watch as the others would fall submissively before his feet.

"I was glowering? I failed to notice." Derision stretched my tone to new depths, yet I failed to mind the tactless grace it invited. I was scorned and by damn it, it was time for it to make its presence known. I have been growing weary of maintaining such a placid façade for quite some time that I fear it has stretched itself thin enough to be translucent, permitting all to see the vexation that crept behind such a fictitious docile frame. If it was one thing that I despised more than Eric, it was being in his debt.

"I share your sentiment," he spoke with words encased in a repugnant loathing towards the Viking that matched my own verdict. "You will be liberated of him in time."

I was content to know that another agreed with me on such an issue. I found solace in knowing I was not alone in my beliefs. As a result, I offered him a smile with a magnitude he was unable to reciprocate before returning to my glower bestowed once again upon the supercilious Viking. I would have continued it as long as the night would permit me if it were not for the tenacious recollection as to why my presence was requisite, to assess Godric's mental stability. I eased my rancorous mind with notions of possessing time later that could be spent inflicting desolation and melancholy upon Eric's wretched existence.

Content with its argument, my gaze traveled to Godric as he sat blasé and as inert as time. Disenchanted with the merriment set before him, for he only felt suffocated by such ostentatious and jovial gatherings that were rendered trifling by his burdened mind, his eyes fixed upon a distance with a perspective cast upon a bereft past that remained an enigma to prying eyes. The memories flickered beneath his irises as wisps of spun gold that faintly lined his pupils with a forlorn life he was incapable of disregarding. I could feel the deliberation it brought as it pressed itself upon every corner of his mind. It was the question that we all asked of ourselves at some point; _Am I good enough? _

It was unremittingly followed by others that only beckoned more of its nature, flooding his mind, encircling, spinning round and round as the process completes itself only to commence once more. I did not require Sookie to read his mind. I already knew what plagued it for they were the callous queries I had asked of myself once upon a time.

"Do you think he will ever overcome it?" My inquiry fell softly upon the room, rendered airy by the earnest wonder it carried.

"You once did." Bill's subtle prompt of a girl best forgotten rang throughout my ears despite the amity of his tone. Recollections of a past I wished not to be mine surfaced from the resonance of his words, filling every corner of my mind with its reminiscences.

* * *

With a dejected sigh hanging wretchedly upon my translucent lips, refusing to part for it was far from finished as I sat upon a nearby couch. Sinking into it until my insipid flesh became ones with its crimson fabric, I passed through its frame completely with only the floor cradling me after my downwards departure ceased. The sigh still reprehensibly clung to my lips upon recalling that I no longer consisted of solid matter.

I was a ghost, a translucent entity embedded somewhere between life and death, or at least that is how Bill explicated it to me. Nevertheless, his erudition of the mystical paranormal was no longer here to illuminate the obscurities of my queries. It left with him, just as others before him, upon the tenuous evasion of commission. His attendance was requisite in New York for reasons he respectfully refused to enlighten me with. Thus, I was left behind, rendered alone in this ostentatious hotel room, a method of décor New York only knew. Despite feeling the poignant tumult of human lives around me, their insufferable emotions inexorably altering to better suit the ambiances of intentions that carried them here, the vast solitude of an existence not conceived was all that I could hear. Its cries for tribute were louder than the others as it rendered them to nothing more than white noise that retreated to the slender crevices of the back of my consciousness where they collected, scheming their malicious reprisal.

Bewilderment prickled my mind, reproaching and jeering as if to say I would never comprehend, as I attempted once more to wrap my mind upon such a concept of introspection. All that it produced were the contemptuous realizations of being blank, empty, and hollow as it cruelly casted me back in to a solitude that enclosed me with scornful remarks and censorious visages. I had no past to define myself by, only a name I was not sure was even mine to take.

Its absence left a fissure within me for the ambiguity and diffidence to fill, consuming more than what was offered as its grasp burned me with a reality I was unable to comprehend, a crippling pain that stung with a white hot intensity that always left the tedious twinge of scars, imprinting what belonged to it. As it immersed me, consuming me until no part of myself remained, it liberated tenacious queries I could not answer as they crawled down my insipid flesh, clucking its tongue in discontent before sinking its teeth within me, burrowing deeper to where it would always be a part of me.

_Am I good enough?_

The callous thought echoed in my ear, tugging at my hair and clothes indignantly, until one by one each reverberation unraveled in their own laughter, cackling in the broken shards of self-redemption that mirrored a disconsolate fate for they knew I had no answers to silence them with. I was inadequately inept, just a memory left to fade away with the wind to unburden those who once knew me, those who once cared.

I looked upon the hotel door, terrified of what its burnished cherry wood held behind its frame, for it was a world I could never conceive. And how could I when I could not even comprehend myself? I was no more of use than the chair that refused to sit my weary frame.

I cradled my somnolent head, marked heavy by all the callous reflections and thoughts it must hold, within my enervated hands. I breathed out a superfluous breath that rattled around my lungs in dismay before being exhaled in the form of an apprehensive sigh. I watched as it fell upon the room in a beige vapor, plummeting to the wooden floor where it collected with its brethren in puddles of ambivalent conjecture for what was to come. They would be all that would remain of me in time.

It was coming for me. Hair frightfully standing on end from its blistering breath upon the back of my neck as I once turned the never-ending corners of New York, narrowly evading something I could not define but faded just as time. The tarnished remembrance of it pressed itself upon my mind, filling every recess and indentation with frayed cornered images of jagged fangs emerging from the dusk of the world followed by red rimmed eyes of a figure cloaked by the desolate shadows of our fatal world.

It would find me, the death I had escaped. I knew it was hunting me, steps falling like the unremitting ticking of a clock, howling in the middle of the night with allurements void of cordial bliss. It was only a matter of time before I would run out. It would find me one day and it would take me screaming, bucking, nails desperately dragging upon the fresh earth, back to another dwelling that I could not comprehend but claimed to be my home, a forlorn place for me to belong. I knew of its disheartening mendacity, shuddering at its fabrications for I knew even it feared a place such as the afterlife. A dismal terror lurking in the back of the mind, forever haunting you over the things you could not elucidate with rationality for logic even feared such a thing as it.

I could not sense the tips of my fingers upon my scalp as they ran through translucent locks of hair whose hue remained inscrutable to my eyes. I curled my fingers upon my head, dismayed that I could not feel the clumped tresses they seized as my eyes closed firmly in their own exasperation. Time passed by leisurely, agonizing as it languorously caressed my deliberating frame, embracing me with notions of an end I remained disconcerted of as it raked its nails indolently across my flesh, indulging in its perturbing pace. As time elapsed, depraved seconds turning into inexorable minutes, I felt a life I never knew pass by, glimpses of a world unforeseen, as I sat here frightened by my own translucent flesh.

"It's not fair." My tongue crafted such juvenile words only for them to be uttered once more, made absolute by the chagrined exasperation detained in my shaking head. "It's just not fair." How was I to answer such questions of fate when I could not even recall who I once was? Was I truly not deserving of such a redemption? Was my felicity too much to request?

This was not the life that I had wanted, rendered confined to an abysmal hotel room by my own tenacious queries and trepidation. A life spent fleeing from something indeterminate was a life spent wasted, for the indefinites of this world surrounds us every day. It lurks in the shadows of every minute decision that was never made, filling our minds with notions of alternate realities and forsaken ways of life, compelling us to wonder if our decisions where the right ones to have made.

Caught within the blazing auburn flames of a realization that embellished the fragrance of faint vanilla, I believed myself to be stronger than I once was for enervated minds always graced us with such delusions of grandeur. I no longer cared if death came for me. Let it come. I will chase it away just as I had done before. I would live a life with lines I had ascertained myself, no longer willing to bend for the sake of an unruly destiny I had no part of crafting. I would walk this earth and it would crumble at my feet, marking the day that I chose to live instead of submissively waiting for the grace of a foreboding fatality.

Holding in a superfluous breath, I passed through the door, feeling for the first time the atoms that defined myself breaking away. Strangely, it tickled, a sensation of jubilation I had no recollection of experiencing. It was a new experience and I welcomed every moment of it.

In time I walked upon the streets of New York with an exuberant smile spread across my naive lips, seizing them for they were now their own. Vibrant colors of a world unforeseen surrounded me with their entangling aromas of life and I embraced them all, welcoming for this was who I will be until I found a way to truly be alive once again. I would taste its saccharine decadence upon my tongue once again no matter the expenditure of my equanimity waiting to attain it.

I would live.

For once I was fortunate that no one could see me, for surly they would have thought me deranged for being in such a state of inexplicable exuberance, wandering the pompous and vulgar boulevards of downtown Manhattan. Regardless, my smile never faltered for I knew I was halfway out of the darkness.

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While lost in an impetuous forest of the past, my exchange with Bill had been terminated once he found Sookie to be finished with her change in wardrobe. He left me to be with my foremost reminiscences of a past I hoped not to forget as promptly as the one before it. He parted me with a smile that curved in a reassuring manner before departing to be by the side of his beloved. Her previous encounter with Gabe only reinforced his defensive nature, compelling him to be by her side every waking moment.

Jaded, for no other word could carry the emphases of my lackluster, I sought diversion in the observation of others. In a matter of minutes I was immersed in the party's ambiance. I felt myself being carried away within the lush wine mist of a zealous avidity. Blinding and uncanny, it sauntered into the room as men marked by the leather they wore and the size of their fangs made note of who they would share their bed with for the night. It was a form of ravenous voracity that was eternally insatiable as it sunk low to the ground, stalking within the shadows. It tainted the room with its shades of an errant and dissolute night that haunted the ivory of these walls for days to come. Its fingers stretching from the sanctuary of the shadows to grasp their host, crawling ardently up their frames to sink within their vixen's flesh. An ash gray, the hue of winter remained upon the skin where it once was, spreading across the surface of their flesh, consuming them without their acknowledgment.

Its fingers expanded again in the distance, hastening towards me as an emerging shadow while I remained stagnant, frozen by my inquisitiveness. It clasped around my ankle, holding firm as the chill in the night's air. It slithered up my leg and across my arm in a lecherous manner as it clashed against the light in the room that tired to thwart its journey. It moved as smoke across my insipid flesh, curling around my frame as I became entangled within it. I remained as still as time as it perched upon my shoulder, fingers tapping with every whispered word of sinful sensations that would have caused my cheeks to flush if there were blood in them to boil from such perturbing intimate notions.

"_Give yourself to him. Let your legs wrap around his waist as your bare skin molds with his,_" it whispered seductively in my ears as its words resonating across its entire form, each wisp of itself concurring as it filled the night with its dissolute propositions. Although it felt cool upon touch of a vice, its indulgent words were warm as they rose, entangled in its low and intimate tone. Irresolute as to why, my gaze fell upon Godric as its propositions reverberated within my ears.

I had witnessed such incidents happen to others, unbeknownst that they were being inveigled, but never has someone else's sensation tried to coerce me with lexis. Until this cumbersome moment, I have only sensed fragments of their persuasions as essences that have passed through me: the sights, sounds, and aromas of others' emotions. Now that one was willing to spare their time for a ghost, I dared not counter to its proposal for fear its hold on me would strengthen.

I loathed the way it made me fell, as if I ached from a rapacious hunger I could not comprehend. A restrained craving of intimacy plagued my mind with its restless desires as it caressed my skin, a vexing jeer through the lingering ache. I desired to feel the sensation of another's flesh upon my fingertips. I wanted to touch and be touched.

Realizing such primitive and dormant thoughts now run rapid across my consciousness, it brought a trepidation that shook them from me and returned my prudent nature. "Go away," I whispered in a timorous stained voice that appeared smaller than my own. "Just go away."

Realizing that I would not be swayed as the others, it left, passing through my translucent frame to a new host to appease its tyranny. A solace sigh escaped my lungs and I felt the tension within me relax, coiled muscles collectively releasing their anticipation in a superfluous exhaled breath.

A few eyes passed dubiously across my form, inquiring as to what sparked such words. Not wishing to waste a moment on the girl who was plausibly losing her grip on reality, they returned to their banter, leaving me to my trepidation of what was to come.

It was a fear unlike the others for it weighed upon my shoulders with the turmoil of the world, suffocating as a future that was left to bend to the whims of the universe and was thus deemed indefinite and capricious. My state of existence had remained as constant as death would permit for these past years. It was now that it saw fit to revolutionize and shatter the world I was beginning to comprehend, as if nonchalantly altering the pieces to a puzzle that it thought nothing of. Panic-stricken and with hasty steps that fell inaudibly despite my maladroit and inept nature, I sought solace in Bill's presence and what I craved to be discerning guidance that would cast light upon the murky indefinites within me.

That was when I saw her, a presence more radiant then memory could capture. Her golden tendrils fell before her lucid verdant eyes, in a manner of arid play that was humbling to witness by the lesser presences such as myself. If possible her eyes appeared greener now that they were no longer tainted by her preceding crimson tears. It was always within her presence, as well as others that were strikingly similar to her, that my place in the world was fashioned, a place that would remain beneath hers for she were the water that quenched men's thirst and I was the salt that brought it. We would spend a lifetime comparing ourselves to the placid yet alluring nature her beauty possessed, wondering why it graced those such as her but disregarded others such as ourselves, incapable of being beleaguered by such genetics that were lost causes in its light of mind.

A giggle as light as air rose from her lips and fluently passed through the fingers that tried to cover it. As her laughter fell weightlessly upon the room in wisps of spun gold that curled in their own enchantment with a faint floral scent of fresh cut roses, it crinkled the corners of her eyes as it lightened the hue of her irises. She stood with the apposite grace of mannered intellect, lilac waves of fabric cascading from her shoulders, rippling across her well endowed curves as she devoured the conversation put before her with the zeal of adolescence.

I passed a scrutinizing glance over my own mediocre ensemble of faded jeans and a murky jade jumper that neither hugged nor caressed what modest curves I possessed but fell loose upon my frame in an unsightly manner. Disconcerted by my attire, my gaze fell diffidently upon my feet, which were no more presentable in their bare flesh and lime green nail polish that chipped and cracked around the edges. Dismayed by the rising levels of commiseration that filled the crevices of my low self-esteem, I disregarded such self-inflected insults to my demeanor in order to remain at the topic at hand.

Before me stood the very motive behind my accord to such a discarded rescue. She was the young woman I met several nights past at the hotel, weeping over the bereavement of her beloved Godric. Now that his security was established and reputable, a smile returned to her lips, as light and warm as her memory served. Despite the exuberance of bliss that fell from her in twisting and curling embroiders of teal that appeared almost translucent in the artificial light, I found it peculiar that she was not by Godric's side. What disgruntled me most was when the realization of such trickery sunk in by the manner of her gaze passing over him, blasé and apathetic. It was as if she were looking at a stranger and not the lover she claimed him to be.

Once the startling distress of such abrupt deceit passed, the name of the culprit pressed itself thin upon my lips as it fell disdainfully from my tongue, "Eric." Even the brief mention of him riled an anger within me so profound that it shook me to my very core, seeping in to seething breaths and glowers.

"He tricked me," I murmured to the night, disregarding the glances of those who assumed me to be deranged. Those words ignited the spark of derision that lay dormant within me as it waited to be riled by his antics, only able to be provoked in such a way by the reminiscences of his manipulative nature. As it awoke, it burned the contents of my mind that it touched, tainting my thoughts, consuming all within its grasp until it devoured me, ensconced within me as if returning home. Content by the malice it harbored, I spoke the words again, relishing their caress as they rolled forth from my tongue. "That bastard tricked me again."

The heat of his conceit burned me, singing my insipid flesh with their unruly audacity before his words forced their way into the light of the night. "Telling a vampire to lock her door; how bold." A tone so taunting I knew it to be possessed by Eric, for only he could wield such words entangled in a condescension that mocked me, was heard from behind me, coercing me to meet its creator. Not one to repudiate such a dispute, I turned in its direction with acrimonious vexation transfixing my gaze into a glower that blazed with all the intensity of hell. The grace of a smug smile was adorned on his pompous lips as he relished the thought of triumph over wining our daily disputes.

How dare he be so blazon!

Now due to Eric's blatant trust issues, I could conclude that I indeed did not like to be tricked. "I hope it was worth the money you spent on her." I bit the words from my tongue, each one tasting more pungent than the last as my enmity seeped into my tone, growing until it was silenced by his interruption.

"When will you see that you let your emotions cloud your judgment?" The daunting remnants of his taunting nature prevailed through his arrogance as his words fell flat upon the floor in a scolding manner that was disappointed by the failure of others.

"It causes you to put your faith in those you shouldn't." He continued as his gaze lingered upon Bill's frame, resentment lapsing upon the rims of his irises, chilling them to the hue of a winter's frost that only reflected more of its nature in its prisms of ice.

His demeanor distorted instantaneously, dismissing our frivolous quarrel with a roll of his oppressing eyes. His jaw now tightened for reasons other than animosity as the menace of the indefinite darkened his eyes and pressed his lips into a thin line that nearly vanished from his visage. Contemplation filed the creviced lines of his facade, molding to his form as water, deepening their marks upon his ivory skin as lines of trepidation. Aberrant as they stretched upon his contemptuous visage, they admonished in frayed lines of paranoid ginger that deceit was upon him.

My gaze traveled to Bill as well, wondering if Eric's concerns would become lucid by following his gaze. What filled my line of vision was only a man too consumed by love to acknowledge his surroundings, blinded by the pearlescent pink of adoration that captivated him completely. How could Eric possibly perceive Bill as anything more than a dupe in love, too entangled in his own admiration to inflict malice upon others?

"What are you insinuating?" I inquired, curious to comprehend the logic behind such callous accusations, especially when they come from one as morally corrupt as Eric. I felt my left brow rise with the dubiousness of the words immersed in a blackened tone, hollow of credence considering he never earned their presence for it remained wary of his previous deceptions.

"Nothing that I can prove, yet." They were not the words of deceit that so eagerly fell from his lips and seized his tongue in the only dialogue he knew. They were the words of warning.

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**A/N: I hope you all enjoyed that chapter and thanks for reading! Please leave a review to let me know what you have enjoyed most about this story. I would love to know what keeps you coming back so I can incorporate it more into the other chapters. I am still looking for a beta (if there are any still out there) and if anyone is interested, then please send me a PM. With that all said, have a fanfiction filled day!**


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